


Target

by bertie456 (bertee)



Series: Bones: Target [1]
Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-11
Updated: 2007-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/bertie456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brennan decides between her principles and the life of a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Going Down

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic ever. /o\ Posted for archiving purposes but I have improved since this. (I hope!)

"Ah! Careful, Booth!" Temperance Brennan exclaimed as a sudden pain shot through her body.

"Sorry," replied Agent Seeley Booth, somewhat out of breath, "It's just kind of tight down here."

"Just keep going..." she said, anxious to continue, "I'm almost there."

"At least one of us is," Booth muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," Brennan said, annoyance in her voice.

Booth debated whether to just keep his mouth shut or to start yet another of their infamous arguments.

"You were supposed to hear that," he snapped back, after what was clearly a very one-sided debate. "Remind me again why you get to go first?"

Suppressing a groan of frustration, she craned her neck to face him. "We've been through this already, Booth. But to _remind_ you, I know what I'm looking for and you don't. Besides," she said with a smirk, "you always go first."

He opened his mouth to protest, but soon decided against it. He really _didn't_ have any idea what he was looking for.

Seeing Booth's silent surrender, Temperance smirked again and continued to crawl forwards through the cold and cramped tunnel.

Booth sighed as he saw the forensic anthropologist was on the move again. He had pictured himself alone with his partner in many dark, intimate situations but this one was definitely not on his list. Reluctantly, he hoisted himself up onto his elbows and followed her down the tunnel, trying not to land his arms on her ankles again.

 _It was all the spelunkers'_ _fault,_ Booth had decided, after smacking his helmet against the uneven ceiling for the tenth time in as many minutes. _If they hadn't decided to "investigate" the new caves opened by the heavy rains, then they wouldn't have found the bones. If they hadn't found the bones, he would never have been assigned to investigate a suspicious death on state land. If he hadn't been given the case, Bones wouldn't have been involved either. If Bones hadn't gotten involved, then she wouldn't have insisted that they retrieve the bones from the tunnels instead of digging in from above. And if she hadn't insisted on doing this her way, he wouldn't have been down here, banging his head, instead of out on the town, banging..._ He sighed again in annoyance. _Damn spelunkers._

He was so lost in thought he didn't even realise that Brennan had stopped moving forward, until his elbow landed hard on her ankle once again.

"Sorry, Bones," he said quickly, hoping to avoid a repeat of their previous argument.

He was met with silence.

"Bones?"

Silence

"Look, Bones, I'm sorry, okay? But you should at least give me some warning before you just stop like that, you know? Hand signals, or brake lights, or, hell, even just "Stop"..." He trailed off as Brennan turned round in the tunnel, her eyes bright with excitement and her fingers holding what looked like a small pebble.

"I found a hamate!" she proclaimed, triumphantly.

Booth sank down to the ground in relief, "Thank God."

Temperance looked up at him, suddenly puzzled, "You know what a hamate is?"

Booth met her eyes. "It's a bone, right?" he said, confidently.

"Yes, but how did you- I mean, you usually don't understand-"

"Relax, Bones. I knew there was only one thing down here that could get you so excited," he said, flashing her a smile.

Brennan flushed slightly at his comment and Booth suddenly realised what he had said. "Uh, the bones, bones are what excite you, and I could tell, uh, by your voice and uh, yeah..."

She gave him a reassuring smile and simply asked, "Could you hand me an evidence bag for this?"

Booth immediately relaxed and passed an evidence bag to her waiting hand, silently thanking her for ignoring his earlier comment. He suddenly brightened as a thought struck him, "So you found a bone; that's good news, right? I mean, you got one, the others will be nearby, so we can just bag them up and head back soon, yeah?"

Brennan looked at him, cheerfully.

"Yep, we got one," she said, turning back around to scan the tunnel ahead of her, "only 205 more to go."

She could almost hear Booth's face fall behind her.


	2. Answers and Questions

"Hey, Bones, what have yo-"

The remainder of Booth's question was muffled by the hand swiftly clamped over his mouth. He was pulled backwards and came to rest on the shiny steel bars surrounding the platform in the Jeffersonian, where Temperance Brennan was examining the bones they had found in the tunnel. Angela Montenegro, who, Booth realised, was surprisingly strong for her size, removed her hand from his mouth and leaned against the bars beside him.

"You know, for a big, macho FBI agent," she said, with a twinkle in her eye, "you're kinda easy to get the jump on."

"Well, it's not like I expect to get attacked by a squint," Booth protested. "Especially when I'm just trying to ask my _partner_ for an update, which, by the way, you now seem to have a problem with."

"Just trying to help you out, sweetie," Angela said, giving him an innocent smile. "Look at her, Booth. She's not gonna hear a thing you say till she's finished."

Booth looked where she directed and saw Brennan bent over, examining the bones closely. Her entire attention was focused on the skeleton laid out in front of her and even when she moved around the table, her eyes never left the body, gazing intently at the sight before them. It seemed that she and the skeleton were the only two people in the room; she had not even acknowledged Booth's presence as he had bounded up the stairs a few minutes earlier.

"She always does this," Angela said, snapping Booth out of his peaceful contemplations. "Hodgins calls it skeletime. Zach says that she's making general observations. But I, " Angela smiled as she watched her oblivious friend, "I know that she's making a connection. She obviously can't physically talk to the person - because, well, they're dead - so she always takes a few minutes to get to know them, to find out their background, their personality, their strengths and weaknesses, the same stuff you like to find out about the people you talk to."

Booth couldn't take his eyes off his partner. "So she always does this?" he asked, softly, "How come I've never seen it before?"

"She doesn't like to do it when other people are around," Angela responded, equally quietly, "Normally she'll wait till you've gone and we're all busy doing something else. But trust me," she said, a smile returning to her face, "nothing and no-one can disturb her when she's like this. Seriously, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse could trot round that table, sounding their trumpets, and she wouldn't notice a thing."

A wicked grin spread across Booth's face, "Wanna bet?"

Angela instinctively straightened in protest, but soon decided against it. "Your funeral," she said with a shrug.

Winking at her, Booth quietly walked over to Temperance and positioned himself close behind her as she stood, holding her clipboard at her side. In one practised motion, he slid his hands onto her hips and brought his mouth close to her ear.

"What have you got for me, Temperance?" he whispered in a low voice, his warm breath passing over her bare neck.

Jolted back to reality, Brennan instinctively stepped to the side and slammed her clipboard into her attacker's stomach. It was only when Booth hit the floor with a groan that she realised who she had actually "defended" herself against.

"Booth, what the hell did you do that for?" she asked, angrily.

Booth raised his eyebrows, still winded from the blow to the stomach, "Me? I'm not the one who attacks co-workers with clipboards."

"Well, what do you expect when you just sneak up on people like that, with no warning, no-"

"No warning? Bones, I practically shouted your name across the lab earlier!"

"I was concentrating, Booth! Remember that, when you actually think hard about something?"

"I am thinking about something! I was trying to work this case till you went postal on me!"

"I don't know what that means, but I am certain that you shouldn't be talking to your partner like that!"

"At least I am talking to my partner, not having some one-on-one time with Mr. Funnybones here-"

"Ms Funnybones, for your information. This person is a woman."

Booth's anger subsided as he called his mind back to the case at hand.

"A woman? How old?" he asked, surprised.

"Mid to late thirties, judging by the pelvic fusion," Brennan replied, previous argument forgotten.

"Race?" Booth inquired, fishing for his notepad.

"Caucasian," she replied, matter-of-factly.

Angela watched the interaction between the pair in amazement. _Just like an old married couple,_ she thought to herself, smiling.

"Cause of death?" Booth continued, absorbed once again in the case.

"Gun shot wound through C2, severing the spinal cord." Brennan instinctively indicated the position of the shot with her finger, manually translating the science for Booth's benefit.

He nodded appreciatively. "Shot from behind, execution style," he said with confidence, "Probably means it was personal. You got an ID or TOD yet?"

"Hodgins is working on TOD. The body was washed down the tunnel by the heavy rain, which removed many of the necessary particulates, so it may take a little longer than usual." She turned to face the artist who was still leaning against the side of the platform. "Ang, how are you doing with the facial reconstruction?"

Angela's daydream of Booth and Brennan as an actual old married couple, complete with pipe and slippers for Booth, was cut short by the sound of her own name. "Sorry, what?" she asked, focusing her attention back to the pair standing before her.

"ID, Angela," Brennan replied patiently.

"Oh, right, that's actually what I came here to tell you," she said with a triumphant grin. "Maria Clarke. Lived here in DC with husband Peter, reported missing by a friend 5 months ago."

Angela held up her sketch of the victim alongside a picture of a slim, dark-haired woman from the Missing Persons Database. The likeness was uncanny.

"Nice work, Ang," Brennan said, studying the picture closely.

Booth frowned in confusion, "Wait, did you say a friend reported her missing?"

"Yep, a Melissa Gates. Why? Is that bad?" Angela frowned, equally confused.

"Well, she was married. How come the friend knew she was missing before the husband?" he said, suspicions already forming, "What do you say we go talk to the husband?"

Brennan had her coat on before he could finish speaking.

* * *

Peter Clarke paced nervously in his front room, running his shaky fingers through his dark blond hair. _This man does not handle pressure well,_ thought Booth. _No way would he be calm enough to kill his wife and drive her body all the way over to Rock Creek Park to dump it down an old well._

"What can you tell us about the day your wife disappeared?" he asked, gently.

"I, uh, it was just a normal day. She went out to work and just, uh, didn't come home again. I thought she'd gone to stay with a friend, she sometimes did that..." Peter Clarke suddenly gathered himself together again, "Look, I told the police all this when she went missing. I don't see why-"

"Sir, we are just trying to find out what happened to your wife," Booth interrupted calmly. "Any information you can give us would be very helpful to our investigation."

"I, I, I can't talk to you..." he stammered, "I'm sorry, but I can't."

Booth realised that something was very wrong here. _This man barely batted an eyelid when he found out his wife was dead. I know he didn't kill her but he's afraid to talk. Something must have made him afraid._

Before he could open his mouth to reassure the frightened man, Brennan's tolerance for the man's evasive behaviour wore out. "She was your wife! How can you not want to help?" she said, anger and frustration evident in her voice.

"Bones..." Booth said, warningly..

She continued undaunted, "I'm sorry, Booth, but I can't understand why an innocent person wouldn't report his wife missing! She may have needed his help, but he didn't even care enough to file a missing persons' report. She still needs his help now, but he won't even give us the answers we need!"

"Bones!"

The sharpness of Booth's tone stopped her and she saw that he was looking at Mr Clarke, who had sat down, his face ashen. She finally realised that something wasn't right.

"Mr Clarke," he said in a firm yet soothing voice, "I know that you can't talk to us and I'm not going to pressure you. You don't need to tell us what happened or what you know, but please, sir, off the record," he crouched in front of the terrified man, "give me their name."

Mr Clarke raised his head to look at Booth. He met his eyes and gave him a reassuring nod. Clarke took a deep breath and whispered,

"Dellato."


	3. Facts vs Rumors

"Dellato? As in _the_ Dellato family?" Hodgins fought the impulse to squeal, realising he'd been spending too much time around Angela. He instead settled for a more masculine, "Oh, man! Do you know what I've heard about those guys? Apparently, they once-"

Brennan cut him off swiftly, "Jack, can we save the conspiracy theories till after we know the facts please?"

Hodgins relented, leaning back on the sofa in Brennan's office. "Fine. Let's hear the _facts_ , Booth."

Booth shot him a withering glare but read from his file nonetheless, "Dellatos, big time mob family in the 60s based in New York. Run by two brothers who were into most things - extortion, drugs, prostitution, you name it. Apparently there was some bust-up between the two, resulting in the younger one, Enzo, moving himself here to DC. Now Enzo was always the quieter of the two, preferring low profile jobs, which is why we didn't have as much on him."

"Didn't?" Brennan asked, "Why, where is he now?"

"Dead, " Booth replied simply, "Lung cancer got him about 5 years back. However, he did leave some kids," he checked his file again, "Sons, Marco, Sal and Luca, and daughter, Gina. From what I've gathered, they're following in their father's footsteps regarding a low profile as we've got almost nothing on them."

Hodgins opened his mouth but Booth continued, "Only mention of them we got is in relation to some deaths in protective custody. On six separate occasions, we took people into safehouses who had been attacked and threatened with kidnap. Each time, they were killed within one day of being there and we never found out who did it."

"How does that relate to the Dellatos?" Zach asked, not seeing a logical connection. "I mean, if they were connected to the deaths then why were they not arrested?"

"Because they weren't connected," Booth said, emphatically, "There was no physical evidence and no clear motive to link them to the crimes. The only reason their name is in our file is because it was literally _mentioned_. A partner or friend or colleague of each victim said that they were being targeted by the family, but no-one could prove that or find any evidence to support the claims. Hell, the agents in charge even talked to every one of the Dellato children but got nothing. Now I'd lay odds that Peter Clarke was being threatened by these guys, and they probably killed his wife to get to him, but there's no way that I'm gonna be able to prove that..."

He trailed off in frustration and Hodgins cleared his throat loudly. Booth sighed heavily, "If you must..."

"Rumors about these guys are all over the place," he began, enthusiastically, "Some are obviously exaggerated, whereas some, as my FBI buddy here has just confirmed, are true." He continued, ignoring Booth's scowl, "The Dellatos have expensive tastes and, being mobsters, they aren't going to pay for it themselves. A friend of mine, a rich friend, had the misfortune of dealing with them once and he told me exactly how they get what they want."

He paused for dramatic effect and received a sharp motivating nudge from Angela.

"My friend, who shall remain anonymous, was what they referred to as the "bullseye", meaning he had what they wanted, which in this case was _lots_ of money. He wasn't married so they went after his best friend - let's call him John - who he'd known since childhood. One day he came home from work to find John unconscious in his kitchen with a broken arm and a note demanding that $5 million be transferred to an untraceable Swiss bank account in 24 hours. When John woke up, with no idea why he had been attacked, they also found that he had what looked like a target burned into his stomach."

Hodgins paused again, expecting a response, and was met with blank looks from his fellow colleagues. Booth suddenly nodded in comprehension. "He was the target. To get the bullseye, you, uh, hit the target," he explained, uncomfortably.

Hodgins nodded, "That seems to be their way of thinking. Anyway, my guy refused to pay, which is pretty much the standard response when someone asks you for $5 million out of the blue. 24 hours passed, during which time John was kept safe and secure inside his mansion. Then he just vanished."

"Vanishing is a molecular impossibility," Zach stated, unaware of the tension that Hodgins' story was creating.

"Well, obviously he didn't vanish, Zach," Hodgins said irritably, "But being kidnapped from a house with a million dollar security system is pretty damn close."

"What happened next?" Angela asked, lost in the story.

Hodgins shook his head, "I'm not sure. He really didn't want to go into detail after that, but the gist of it was that John was kidnapped and tortured until he handed over the money. Then the kidnappers just took off, leaving John by the roadside somewhere and giving him instructions of where to find him."

There was silence in Brennan's office as everyone tried to comprehend what they had just heard.

Brennan spoke first. "How do you know that this was the work of the Dellatos?" she asked softly.

"I just do," Hodgins replied honestly, "If I had any actual proof, then it would be in that file he's got there. As it stands, I'm just going off what I heard, but this is definitely how people say they operate. It's not always money. Sometimes they want favours, people killed, charges dropped, transport provided, or sometimes just expensive stuff, jewellery, cars, boats, but the m.o. is always the same. They attack without warning to prove they're serious, make demands, no threats needed, then kidnap and torture till they get want they want."

He indicated Booth's file, "If they contact the cops, the target is killed, and if they don't provide what they want, probably like our Mr Clarke, then the target is killed. But here's the kicker," he said, his voice dropping to a low whisper, "If they're forced to kill the first target, then they pick another. Another friend, colleague, relative, whoever, and they repeat the process, hoping the bullseye learned from their mistakes." He smiled grimly, "They've never had to repeat it more than once. They may be "low-profile" but from what I've heard, they're just as ruthless as some of their... flashier counterparts."

Booth nodded, "As much as I hate to admit it, that fits with what I have here. Plus it would explain Clarke's reaction today; he didn't give them what they wanted so they killed his wife. They must have taken someone else before he gave in, and he was too scared to tell the police in case they came back and killed the second target."

"We need proof," Temperance interjected suddenly. "This is just theorising. We need some actual evidence to support these claims."

"We won't get it from Peter Clarke," he said.

"Then I'll get it from Maria Clarke," she said confidently and walked back out into the lab.

Dr Hodgins and Dr Addy followed close behind her, leaving Angela and Booth alone in the office. Booth turned to leave but Angela put her hand on his arm gently.

"Booth," she asked, concern in her voice, "you know how these guys will do anything to get what they want?"

Booth turned to face her, sensing her worry. "What's up, Angela?" he asked, meeting her eyes.

Angela looked towards the bones on the table, which Brennan was now examining for vital clues. Swallowing hard, she asked,

"Don't we have something they want?"


	4. Precautionary Measures

"Where are we going?" Brennan inquired as Booth's SUV pulled out of the Jeffersonian parking structure.

"To arrest Marco Dellato," Booth replied nonchalantly.

Brennan frowned, "But I haven't found any evidence yet to link him to the murder of Maria Clarke."

"Exactly," Booth said confidently, focused on the road ahead.

She frowned again, confused. Booth's logic was not her logic.

"So why are we arresting him?"

"A precautionary measure, Bones"

"A precaution against what?"

Booth sighed, "Bones, the Dellatos are used to getting what they want. Now, I'm pretty sure they don't want _you_ to get enough evidence from that skeleton to put them in jail for murder."

Temperance nodded, "Of course not."

"So, if I were the Dellatos and someone was about to try to use a bunch of bones to send me to jail, I would want to stop them."

She nodded again, "And you think they're going to try to stop me from working this case."

"Exactly. Making you the so-called "bullseye". You have something they want, in this case, all the evidence from Maria Clarke's body."

Her eyes widened, first with realisation, then horror.

"But to get to the cowseye..."

"Bullseye, Bones, bullseye,"

"To get to the bullseye," she continued, fear in her voice, "They'll attack someone close to me." She suddenly sat up and grabbed Booth's arm. "What are we doing? We should get back to the lab, they'll be going after someone I work with! Booth, turn around!"

Booth smiled, "Relax, Bones, it's okay-"

"Okay?" she shouted, panic rising, "Booth, they won't see it coming! What if it's Zach? Or Hodgins? Oh god, what if they go after Angela?"

"Bones!" he shouted back, surprising her into silence. He continued before she could say anything more, "Bones, it's okay. Angela realised what might happen so she, Zack and Hodgins are going to stay together till we get back."

"But what about when they go home? Or for lunch? Or even to the bathroom? They can't stay together forever..."

"Would you let me finish?" Booth said, giving her a reassuring smile. "Listen, that's why we're here. In mob families, it's almost always the oldest son who has the authority. If we arrest Marco, chances are that the others won't carry out the attack. He'll be the one who does the planning and makes the decisions, and if he's out of the picture, the others won't be confident enough to see it through without him. Cut of the head of the snake and all that."

Temperance wrinkled her brow, momentarily distracted from the case, "Snake? Why would he want to cut the head off a snake? Is that like the cutting off of the horse's head that Angela told me about?"

Booth smirked at her pop culture confusion. "No, Bones, the horse's head is from a movie. The snake's head is an analogy - if you cut the head off a snake, the body will die? Well, here, the Dellatos are the snake and, if I'm right, Marco is the head."

"You know, I could have understood that without you resorting to anatomy analogies. Why do they say a snake, anyway? If you cut the heads of most mammals or reptiles or birds or fish then it naturally follows that the body will die, either from blood loss or severing of the nervous system or..."

Brennan continued as Booth tuned out, watching the road in front of him and trying to think of some reason, any reason, to arrest Marco Dellato.

* * *

Booth pulled up outside a large, detached house in one of DC's better neighbourhoods. As they walked up the gravel path to the front door, an idea struck him.

"Hey, Bones, how about you do the talking when we get in there?" he said with a smile.

Brennan stopped and turned to him in surprise, "You never let me do the talking!"

"I know that, which is why I thought I'd give you a shot with this guy." He strode ahead of her, calling back, "But if you don't want to..."

She ran to catch up with him, "I never said I didn't want to."

Booth smiled to himself. _Reverse psychology,_ he thought. _Works every time._

Brennan rang the doorbell and a tall, stocky man opened it. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, holding the door opened with an olive-skinned arm, effectively blocking their entry. His dark brown eyes lingered over Brennan as she stood before him, taking in every inch of her.

 _His eyes are almost the same colour as Booth's,_ she noticed. _But Booth's seem warm and friendly, whereas his..._ She shuddered at the thought of what was going on behind those eyes.

"Mr Dellato? My name's Dr Temperance Brennan," she said loudly, forcing his eyes to her face and away from other parts of her body. "And this is Special Agent Seeley Booth from the FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions about the murder of Maria Clarke."

His cold eyes betrayed no emotions as they met hers.

"May we come in?" she ventured, as he had made no response.

Wordlessly, he moved aside slightly, forcing Brennan to squeeze close to him as she walked through the door. Ignoring Booth, Marco Dellato followed her slowly as she moved around the main hall, examining the lavish decoration.

"What do you do for a living, Mr Dellato?" she asked him bluntly.

"I'm a... businessman," he said, smiling lecherously at Brennan. Seeing that smile, Booth resisted the urge to knock some of his teeth out.

"Would that business include murder and kidnapping by any chance?" she asked innocently. The smile fell from Dellato's face. _That's my girl_ , Booth thought happily.

"Excuse me?" he asked angrily.

"Well, you are Marco Dellato, correct? With your family's background, I'm sure this can't be the first time you've heard such an accusation."

 _That's it, Bones, insult the family,_ Booth smiled inwardly.

"I don't have to listen to this. I don't know who you are Dr Brennan, but no-one insults my family like that, especially under my own roof. Now get the hell out before-"

"You throw me down an abandoned well like you did to Maria Clarke?" Brennan interrupted, thinking she might provoke a confession.

Booth tried to restrain himself from punching the air with his fists in triumph, as he could see what was coming next.

Growling with anger, Marco Dellato swung hard at Temperance, shouting furiously. She was surprised, but deftly ducked under his swing and grabbed his wrist with both hands. Twisting it hard, she watched calmly as Dellato dropped to the floor to relieve the pressure she exerted on his arm.

Doing a mental victory dance, Booth stepped forward and slapped handcuffs on Dellato's newly reddened wrists, pulling him back to his feet. "Marco Dellato, I am arresting you for assault. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right..." Booth could barely keep the elation out of his voice as he read Dellato his rights and led him back down the path to the waiting SUV.

When Dellato was safely contained in the car, Brennan slapped Booth hard on the arm.

"You did that on purpose!" she said, indignantly, "That's why you let me do the talking - you wanted him to attack me!"

Booth tried and failed to keep a straight face, earning him another slap from his partner.

"How dare you-" she began again, but he cut her off quickly.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't trying to get you hurt, I just needed to find a reason to arrest him. Anyway," he said, giving her his most charming smile, "that is what we came here for, isn't it? To arrest him and stop your squints from getting hurt?"

Brennan nodded, reluctantly, her bottom lip still stuck out in a slight pout.

"Come on," he said, encouragingly, "Let's get you back to the lab. You can tell Angela all about how you managed to arrest Marco Dellato."

Brennan gave a slight smile, which was enough for Booth. He hopped into the driver's seat and headed back to the Jeffersonian, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

* * *

Marco Dellato was not pleased. Not only had he been dragged down to the FBI headquarters on a trumped-up charge of assault, but now he was having to wait in line to make his one phone call, like some goddamn car thief or wife beater. Did they not know who he was? That he had friends in high places? That his family was one of the most powerful in the state?

Well, they would learn. That damn doctor would learn. His fists clenched at the memory of her disrespect towards him and his family. How dare she come and poke her nose into his business? His mind drifted back to the mention of Maria Clarke and he cursed his younger brother for being lazy enough to just dump her down a well, instead of burying her like the others.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of the phone being put down and he shuffled forward in his orange jumpsuit to make his call. He dialled quickly, his fingers tense with anger, and was relieved when his youngest brother answered the phone.

"Luca," he said, his tone grave, "I'm in the FBI holding cells on assault, but they say they're looking into the Clarke case too."

He winced as his brother's angry shouts came down the line. The last thing anyone wanted to do was piss off Luca Dellato.

"I want you to do what you normally do," Marco replied in answer to his brother's question. "The evidence is with a woman called Temperance Brennan, she's some kind of doctor. From what they said in the car, any one of her colleagues would make a good target. Apparently they're all like a little family."

He snorted with derision but was quickly silenced by brief, business-like words from his brother.

"Yes, I understand," he said, finally, "Yes, I'll call when I'm out." He paused. "Thanks, bro," he said gratefully as he put the phone down.

Marco smiled to himself as he went back to his cell. Luca knew exactly what he was doing, he'd done it many times before. He chuckled, wondering which one his brother was going to pick.


	5. Paranoia

Dr Jack Hodgins was uneasy. The dark blue van had been parked outside his gated compound for hours now and he knew that the occupants were keeping tabs on everyone who entered and exited. He hated this feeling of being monitored against his will; hell, what was the point of having his house built on enclosed, _private_ land if people were going to just sit outside, watching him?

 _It had been a stressful day,_ he thought, recalling the tense atmosphere in the lab. As much as he loved conspiracies and morbid stories, the fact that he or his friends could easily have fallen victim to vicious mobsters scared him more than he thought possible. His mind immediately flashed to Angela and he remembered the cold stab of fear that had gone through him when she had gone missing earlier in the day, only to come crawling out seconds later from under Dr. Brennan's desk after retrieving a lost earring.

He shook his head, trying to ignore the nagging worry at the back of his mind; _What if they came anyway? What if the oldest brother wasn't the one in charge?_ He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the book he was reading. Imagining possible scenarios and circumstances was not one of his many strengths. _That was what Booth was for,_ he told himself confidently _. Booth knows about these sorts of things - the hierarchical family structure, the likelihood of an attack occurring without the presence of the leader - that was his job._

He glanced out of the window again at the motionless blue van. _Booth knew what he was doing,_ he reminded himself. _No one's coming after us; the FBI surveillance team outside the gates are just a precaution._ He shifted uncomfortably in his well-worn leather chair. He hated being imposed upon by the Federal Government, also as much as he hated being targeted by the mob.

Hodgins sighed. For all his complaining, he knew that Booth only had their safety in mind when he ordered that all the so-called squints be placed under the protection of the FBI for the duration of the night. Jack smiled wryly as he remembered the look of relief that crossed Zach Addy's face when he had allowed the FBI access to his land, which included the young scientist's flat above his garage.

 _Not like they're going to do much good,_ he suddenly thought, bitterly. _My security system will be the best thing for keeping people out and even that might not do the job._ His security was good, but the Dellato family had managed to snatch intended victims from places much more well-guarded than his house. As if on cue, he suddenly heard a low thump on one of the upper floors and he leapt to his feet, instantly alert.

Quickly he looked out of the window again to see if the "elite" squad the FBI installed had noticed anything out of the ordinary. They hadn't. Hodgins heard another thud, closer this time, and he froze in fear. He knew enough about what these guys could do to know that he couldn't take them on alone. As much as he disliked the Federal presence in his house, he realised he was going to have to call on them for help.

Picking up his phone from where it had fallen as he jumped up, he dialled the number of the lead agent in the outside van and felt a strange sense of relief when he heard Agent Vickers' voice over the line, "Dr. Hodgins, is there a problem?"

"Uh, yeah, I'd say there's a problem," he said, looking up towards the source of a third thump and trying to keep the panic from his voice, "I think there's someone in the house."

As he spoke, the thumps seemed to become more and more frequent as he heard them travel down the stairs towards him.

"Dr. Hodgins, stay where you are and try to remain calm. We are making our way inside now." The agent's tone was urgent yet reassuring and Hodgins nodded silently in response, his voice caught in his throat.

The heavy thumps were getting closer and closer, banging hard against each step on the way down the spiral staircase. Steeling himself and momentarily forgetting his instructions, he took hold of a golf club from the wall and walked towards the bottom of the staircase, his heart pounding in his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Hodgins jumped as he felt the ceiling above his head shake slightly with the weight of the intruder. He decided that surprise was probably a better option so he moved behind the wall which separated the end of the narrow staircase from the hall. With his back pressed against the wall, he could feel the vibrations as the thumps rounded the corner and continued down to where Hodgins was waiting.

As he heard the final thud, signalling the end of the stairs, Hodgins raised his golf club with both hands, took a deep breath and then swung hard out into the darkness of the hall.

His weapon connected with nothing but air. The momentum from the swing brought him crashing to the ground and his heart skipped a beat as he came face to face with what had been rolled down his stairs. Two empty eyes stared up at him from the ground and he sank back to the floor, breathing heavily.

The FBI agents rounded the corner to find Hodgins at the bottom of the stairs with a smile of relief on his face. Confused, their eyes travelled to his side and they too relaxed when they saw that the phantom intruder was a large bronze bust of George Washington, which Hodgins informed them was usually balanced on a pedestal at the top of the stairs.

* * *

While Dr. Hodgins was defending his home against a dead president, Zack Addy was trying desperately to stay awake.

He knew that something wasn't right when he had incorrectly connected the circuit in his latest robot. Whereas others would dismiss such an event as an accident or a simple mistake, Zach knew that something was wrong. When it came to the relatively facile concepts of robotic engineering, he knew that he did not make mistakes.

When he stepped away from the robot to look again at his plans, he felt the room move at a different speed to him. Knowing that it was impossible for there to be any localised change in the speed of light as it entered the eye, Zach quickly determined that the problem was with him and not with the rest of the room. Shakily, he staggered over to his telephone and dialled the number of Agent Vickers from memory.

As the phone tried to connect, Zach felt his legs give way beneath him and he slipped to the floor, dragging the telephone down with him. He pressed it to his ear with the last burst of strength his arm could manage and began to speak faintly, only to be met with an announcement telling him that Agent Vickers was on another call at the moment and to please try again later.

The announcement faded into a whisper and Zack felt like his head was being filled with cotton wool. As he passed out, he tried in vain to calculate the probability that this was just a random misfortune and in no way connected to the possible threat from the Dellato family. He slipped into unconsciousness before he could complete his calculation, but, from his initial estimate, it did not look favourable.

* * *

About 30 minutes later, Agent Vickers and his support team burst into Zach's apartment, with a concerned Hodgins at the rear. After he had secured the main house and ensured that Mr Washington was the only unexpected visitor Dr Hodgins would have that night, Vickers had then called Dr Addy and got no answer. Vickers had cursed himself for being so easily distracted and had headed straight over to Dr Addy's apartment, fully aware that Booth would tear him a new one if anything happened to the two scientists under his care.

When they had kicked down the door and entered with guns drawn, Hodgins followed them in, trying to peer round them for any sign of his friend. When he saw Zach lying motionless on the floor, his mind immediately filled with thoughts of the previous victim - unconscious, broken arm, burn on his stomach - and he tried hard not to retch at the prospect.

Crouching down beside Zach, he felt for a pulse and he was surprised when the young man groaned at his touch. "You...cold...hands..." he said groggily, as the room came back into focus again.

Vickers knelt next to him, asking with concern, "Are you injured? Can you remember what knocked you out?"

Zach quickly tested his mental abilities and then proceeded to test the muscles in his body by stretch and contraction, which looked very much like standing up and shaking his limbs to those around him. Satisfied that he was in full working order, he responded calmly to the agent's question, "I do not appear to have any physical injuries and I do not recall what precipitated the unconsciousness."

Vickers was slightly confused by such a response and quickly glanced to the older doctor to ensure that this behaviour was not a result of the head injury. Hodgins' relieved smile and simultaneous rolling of his eyes told him that this was indeed how his friend normally acted. Stepping back, he allowed Dr. Hodgins to continue to question his friend.

"What have you eaten? Do you remember smelling any unusual gas or chemical? Has anyone else been in here recently?" Hodgins asked, still concerned for Zach.

Zach began, as always, with the first question, "I had macaroni and cheese for dinner at 7.35pm which came from a packet and showed no signs of tampering."

Hodgins shook his head. "If that was the cause you would have been unconscious long before now and I spoke to you an hour ago."

Zach continued, ignoring the interruption, "I smelt no gas or chemicals and no-one has been in here this evening but me. And now you. And them."

"What about drinks?" Vickers interceded, keen to show he was still on the ball.

"I had bottled water from the fridge with my meal and a cup of tea with lavender as I worked on my robot," Zach stated.

Hodgins stifled a laugh. "Lavender? I would never have had you down as a guy who stuck flowers in his tea."

Zach bristled slightly, "An acquaintance of mine recommended it. She says it helps her unwind after a stressful day and, as my increased blood pressure indicated that today was stressful, I thought I would try some." He gestured towards a small jar on the shelf. "She even let me borrow some from her kitchen."

Hodgins immediately crossed to the jar and opened it, half-afraid of finding some poisonous herb. When he peered inside he couldn't help but smile. "Zach?" he called across the room, "Does your friend have a cat?"

Zach frowned in confusion, "Yes. I believe she calls it Daisy, but I don't see how that is in any way relevant to this situation."

Hodgins held the small purple plant aloft and addressed the room with the same voice he used in the lab, "Nepeta cataria, a common flowering plant. It causes possible sedation or euphoria if ingested, but is by no means lethal." He faced Zach with a grin on his face. "More commonly known as catnip."

Zach's face flushed bright red and Agent Vickers sank down on the couch in relief. _Two false starts in one night_ , he thought, and immediately gained a new respect for Booth who had to deal with this full time. _I'd go mad,_ he said to himself as the team withdrew to the van, _Absolutely mad._


	6. Who's There?

After hearing about Agent Vickers' stressful night with Drs Addy and Hodgins, Agents Maine and Fielding realised they'd lucked out in being assigned to guard Angela Montenegro for the night. Not only had she let them stay in her lounge with the TV and seemingly endless supply of chips, she had walked around in very short shorts for the majority of the evening, a fact which had not gone unnoticed or unappreciated by both Maine and Fielding.

Fielding smirked to himself as he remembered hearing Vickers' haggard voice on the end of the phone. While his charges had been attacked by statues and knocked out by catnip, the night spent at Miss Montenegro's had gone off without a hitch. She had been followed back to the Jeffersonian in the morning and had arrived safely, meaning they could go back and relax at the FBI headquarters without having to duck and cover whenever Booth showed up. He chuckled to himself as he remembered Vickers' account of his night. _Poor guy_ , he thought sincerely.

* * *

Angela Montenegro wandered towards the stairs leading down from the parking structure to the Jeffersonian, smiling like the cat who got the cream. She made a mental note to thank Booth for his choice of agents and tried to picture the look on his face when he was told that he had excellent taste in men. Her smile widened at the thought.

 _Brennan would've been proud,_ she thought, ruefully. _A whole night alone with two gorgeous FBI guys, and the perfect opportunity to play damsel in distress, and it never went beyond the professional._ Her mind flashed back to the tiny pyjama pants she had worn all evening. _Not far beyond anyway._

She opened the door to the stairs and immediately noticed the stark contrast between the brightly lit car park and the gloomy stairs. _Great,_ she muttered sarcastically to herself, _another fuse the janitors won't fix till someone practically bribes them to._ Remembering past conflicts with the maintenance staff, she set off down the four flights of stairs, thinking that she might send Hodgins to sort out the lights this time, since Bren and Zach had failed miserably in the past.

As she reached the bottom of the second flight, she suddenly stopped. The early morning daylight streaming in through one of the very few windows had provided just enough light for her to make out a figure at the bottom of the stairs. They seemed to be sitting with their back to her against the railings which ran round the edge of the stairs right down to the ground floor. They didn't seem to be moving.

Angela leant over the railings, looking above and below her to see if anyone else was around. Finding no-one, she began to wish she'd taken Agent Maine up on his offer to walk her to her desk. She moved to the top of the stairs, trying to get a better look at the mysterious figure below.

"Who's there?" she called out, trying to sound confident. Her voice echoed loudly in the quiet stairwell and she instantly regretted drawing attention to herself. The figure below didn't show any reaction to her voice and so, with her knees trembling, she moved down one step towards the landing. Her high heels clicked harshly as they met the hard concrete beneath them.

She fought the urge just to run back to her car and instead rummaged in her bag for anything that she could use as a weapon. _Purse, no. Keys, maybe. Diary, no. Condom, no. Lipstick, no. Perfume! Yes!_ Quickly, she pulled the perfume out of her bag, feeling slightly more confident but still wishing it was pepper-spray. In her other hand, she brandished a nail file, figuring that it was the sharpest thing she had with her. Now armed, she moved down nearer to the strange shape at the bottom of the stairs.

As she came closer, the light from the window glinted off metal and her first thought was of a gun. _Oh my god, he's going to kill me,_ she thought, horrified, _He's lying in wait for me. The Dellatos sent him to kill me._

She suddenly frowned in confusion as she looked closer and saw that the light was reflecting off handcuffs. Realising that the figure below her had had their hands cuffed behind them through the railings, she ran quickly down a few more steps to help before her reasoning took over. _What if it's a trap? What if they want me to help so that they can come up behind me and..._ She didn't want to imagine the rest.

Keeping one eye on the doors to the parking level, she tried to work out who the figure was - enemy or friend? She decided that it was a man from the skeletal structure that she could make out, but his frame was swamped by a large padded jacket. She also noticed that he was wearing a hat and was sure that it was the same design as those the Jeffersonian security guards wore.

 _What if he's a guard? What if they broke into the Jeffersonian? What if Bren was still in there?_ Thinking like that, she took another step down, keeping her back pressed firmly against the wall. She was closer now but still couldn't make out his features as his head hung down on his chest. Angela swallowed hard when she saw blood spatters on the floor and wondered whether she was going to find a person or a corpse.

Morbidly reassured by the sight of the blood, she slid further down the stairs until she was almost level with the unknown man, whom she now assumed was a victim. Checking the doors again for any hidden mobsters, she leaned forward again, trying to view his face.

Still unable to see, she stepped down one final time onto the landing and inched forward, perfume and nail file raised for protection.

Thousands of thoughts flashed through her mind as she edged nearer, some making her want to run screaming and some making her want to run forward to the possible victim.

 _Victim. Killer. Hitman. Decoy. Guard. Mobster. Corpse._

She felt a small twinge of relief as she saw his chest rise.

 _Alive. Innocent. Guilty. Warning. Trap. Bait. Blameless. Unlucky._

She stepped to the side slightly, allowing a small ray of light to fall on his face.

 _Beaten. Unconscious. Sleeping. Breathing. Helpless. Mob. Target. Trap._

She let out a gasp and her perfume bottle crashed to the floor as she suddenly recognised the man in front of her.

 _Booth._


	7. Target?

Booth's eyes fluttered open weakly at the sudden noise of the perfume bottle shattering into tiny pieces on the floor. Angela dropped her bag at her feet, all thoughts of an ambush forgotten, and she ran to his aid, still shocked at the sight before her.

Booth had been left kneeling, cuffed to the railings, in the stairwell of the Jeffersonian car park. On top of his own clothes he was wearing a hat and jacket that Angela recognised as belonging to the security guards at the museum. His head was slumped on his chest but, from what she could see, he looked as if he had been badly beaten.

Crouching before him, she gently lifted his head up to face her, noticing that he visibly flinched at her touch. As the light shone more fully on his face, she saw that it was covered in ugly purple bruises, with a painful laceration on one cheek. His white shirt beneath the guard's jacket was crumpled and splattered with blood, but Angela was relieved to find that he had no serious stab or gunshot wounds.

However, her relief was short-lived. As she glanced back towards his face, her eyes were drawn to the thick strip of duct tape that had been placed over his mouth. Written on it, in bold black ink, was the message "Back Off."

She stared at it for a few seconds, realisation sinking in. _Oh god, Booth's the target. He was so worried about all of us that he didn't even consider that he would be used to get to Brennan. None of us did._

She was shaken out of her thoughts by a muffled cry from Booth. As her eyes met his, she saw that he was tired and in pain but aware of his situation. He tried again to speak through the tape and she finally realised that he wanted her to remove it.

Kneeling in front of him, she gripped the corner of the tape with her nails and looked him in the eyes. He nodded slowly and she ripped the tape off in one swift movement, causing him to wince as it caught the tender skin on his jaw. Angela subtly slipped the tape into her bag, intending to analyse it when she got down to the lab and turned her attention back to the injured agent.

"What happened?" she asked, concern in her voice, "Was it the Dellatos? Did they say what they wanted?"

Booth shook his head, still regaining full consciousness.

"Of course not," she interpreted, "Like Hodgins said, they didn't tell that John guy why he was being attacked, so obviously they aren't going to tell y-"

Booth interrupted, his voice weak, "No." She paused and he continued, more firmly this time, "It wasn't the Dellatos."

Angela was silent for a moment, trying to decide. Eventually, she said, "You expect me to believe that you get jumped and attacked by some random guys on the very same day that we become the focus of a notoriously violent mob family? I don't believe you and I know Brennan won't either."

Booth's eyes hardened. "I'm not asking you to believe me. I'm telling you the facts of what happened. I got jumped by two guys dressed as security guards when I left the Jeffersonian last night. I arrested one last week for robbery and he made bail yesterday. They threw a few punches then one of them pulled out a gun. They told me to put on the guard uniform and when I did, they cuffed me to the railings, told me to let the case go, then knocked me out." He smiled slightly at her. "I get a lot of threats doing what I do and these guys just happened to follow through, that's all."

Angela did not look completely convinced and said, "Shouldn't you be filling in some kind of report or statement or something? So that you can arrest this guy again?"

Booth smiled, ignoring the pain he was in, "Well, I would, but I'm kinda stuck here at the minute." He nodded to the corner where the assailants had thrown his keys, well out of his reach. He looked up at Angela, "Get me out of these things?"

Embarrassed that she had forgotten he was still cuffed to the stairs, she hurried over to retrieve the keys and leaned over the railings to free his wrists, which had been rubbed raw by the metal cuffs. Booth groaned in pain as he stood up, sliding the guard's hat quickly into his pocket, while Angela added the handcuffs to the growing collection of evidence in her purse.

He turned back to face her as he moved towards the stairs. "I'm going to go get cleaned up," he said, as though nothing had happened, "and then head over to the Bureau to report this. Bones should still be down in the lab. She wanted to work there all night and neither god nor man could've changed her mind. I left two agents there just in case though." He smiled and winked as best he could with his bruised eye.

Angela just nodded, surprised how keen he was to leave without even checking on Bren.

"If..." he began, uncertainly, "If she asks where I am, just tell her I'm working a case or something. She doesn't need to know about this yet." She heard the sincerity in his voice as he looked directly at her, speaking softly, "Please, Angela. Please, just don't tell her."

Angela nodded and saw relief pass over his face before they headed in different directions, both thinking only of Temperance Brennan.

* * *

Seeley Booth sat heavily in the driver's seat of his SUV, gasping in pain. He had only just made it to the car before his legs gave out from under him and now he just sat there, allowing himself to feel a few minutes of pain before pushing it out of his mind again.

His head throbbed from the punches he had received and his chest felt like it would burst every time he moved. He knew he would have bruises from where their boots collided with his ribs but his arms were too sore to open his shirt and see. He looked down at his wrists and saw the angry red welts from where he had strained against the biting metal of the handcuffs. His shoulder was also filled with a searing pain but he couldn't bring himself to look at it yet.

Trying to ignore his injuries, he started the car and drove quickly back to his apartment, forcing his mind back to the case.

He knew that Angela hadn't believed his story. _Why should she?_ he wondered to himself. _Some half-baked excuse about pissed off robbers would never satisfy her and it definitely wouldn't satisfy Temperance if she told her._ He sighed. _Temperance._ She had been the one who was meant to find him; he'd been left as a warning to her.

Stopping in front of his apartment, he parked the car and pulled the hat out of his pocket, wincing as the material of the jacket scratched his already bleeding wrists. Opening the hat up, he found the message they had stuck inside.

 _Quis custodiet custodem, Dr Brennan?_

 _Prove that Maria Clarke was not killed by Marco Gianni Dellato._

 _Her remains and all evidence gathered should be boxed up and will be collected from outside the side entrance to the Jeffersonian at 11pm on Wednesday evening._

Booth checked his watch. It was 8am on Wednesday. They had thought that Brennan would find him when she went home that evening, allowing her 24 hours to give them what they wanted. They had miscalculated.

He stared out of the car window, lost in thought.

Should he tell Bones what happened? _No,_ he decided quickly. _She didn't want to give the evidence up any more than he did, and he didn't want to be the reason she was forced into it._

Should he let the FBI know and try to round up the Dellatos before anything happened? _They'd be pretty difficult to find. They had contacts everywhere and so might send someone after them anyway. Plus, they had a habit of killing if the cops get involved and..._ He swallowed hard, knowing he'd be the one in the firing line.

Should he try to release Marco Dellato and fake the evidence? _No. They'd see through a fake in no time and that scumbag deserves to be behind bars._

Booth weighed up his earlier decision that the family wouldn't carry out the attack without the eldest. He still stuck by that judgement. _Any thug can pull off a beating but a kidnapping takes more skill. The kind of skill that comes with practice._ He nodded, trying to convince himself that it was an empty threat, but was distracted by the stinging pain in his shoulder.

Carefully he moved his shirt away and looked for the first time at the impression made by the red hot brand that the Dellatos had forced against his skin. He grimaced as the reality of the situation finally sank in.

 _I'm the target,_ he thought, trying to ignore the fear rising in his gut. _If they don't get what they want in 15 hours time, they're coming back. For me._

He swallowed hard, fighting the feeling of nausea that washed over him. He took a deep breath and tried to think rationally, _I can't tell Bones. I can't put her through this. There has to be some other way, and it's up to me to find it before..._

He trailed off, not even wanting to think of what they would do to him if he didn't fix this.


	8. Confrontation

Agent Seeley Booth stared at himself in the mirror, barely recognising his own face beneath the bruises. He had cleaned himself up as best he could - showering, using an ice pack to bring down the swelling, bandaging his injured wrists and shoulder - but he still looked like death. He knew he didn't want to face Bones looking like this but he had little choice.

Cullen had called a few minutes earlier and chewed him out for not being at work. Apparently, Dr Brennan had been pestering him all morning about the continued Bureau presence at the lab and he needed Booth to go down there and sort it out. He winced, remembering Cullen's exact words, "So help me God, I will drag you down there myself if I get one more call from that woman."

Checking his face once more, he set off, fully aware that he now had only 13 hours to find some way to stop the Dellatos.

* * *

Temperance Brennan typed angrily on her computer, pouring her frustration into an argument between Dr Reichs and Agent Lister in her latest novel. Reichs was yelling at her partner for his lack of support and Brennan's feelings currently mirrored her character's.

 _Booth isn't here,_ she thought crossly. _Yesterday we were nearly attacked by hitmen and now he's not even bothering to show up for work. It's not like I need him here,_ she told herself. _It's just that I've got used to having him look out for me. But he hasn't even called to see how everyone is. Angela saw him and said he was working a case. Since when did he tell Angela what he was doing instead of me? Some partner._

Staring at the screen, she heard someone enter her office behind her but she did not look up. "Morning, Booth," she said icily, identifying the intruder by his familiar footsteps. She couldn't help but smile to herself as she heard him swallow hard, clearly nervous about speaking to her. _Good,_ she thought bitterly. _Serves him right for forgetting about me._

"Uh, Bones, I'm sorry I wasn't in sooner. I was just, uh, busy, you know, sorting stuff out..." Booth ventured, guilt in his voice.

"Busy?" She laughed, incredulously, intentionally keeping her back to him, which she had read was a sign of displeasure and annoyance. "What was so important that you couldn't even call? I've had your agents here all morning, who are a particular hindrance to our work, and they said they weren't supposed to leave till you showed up. You didn't answer your cell so I had to call Cullen, and he was very unhelpful, and then Angela says that she saw you going off to another case, without even telling me, I might add."

Wanting to yell at him to his face, she spun round in her chair, taking a deep breath, "How dare you..."

Her mouth dropped open as she finally saw what had happened to him. Booth avoided her shocked gaze, shifting uncomfortably where he stood. She stood up and walked over to him, unable to take her eyes off the dark bruises marring his tanned skin. "What happened to you?" she asked gently, reaching out to examine the reddened wound on his cheek with compassion in her eyes.

Booth stiffened as she touched him. _I can't take this,_ he thought. _I can't let her feel sorry for me while I'm lying to her._ Resisting the urge to tell her everything, he pushed her hand away from his face, more roughly than he had intended. "Nothing happened, Bones. I just got in a fight, that's all," he said, trying to keep his tone casual.

"A fight?" she said, surprised, "Why? Who with?"

Booth waved his hand dismissively. "Just a couple of recent arrestees. They made bail, got drunk and were looking for a little payback."

"But, your bruises...all that was from one fight?" she said, confused

Booth smiled cockily, "You shoulda seen the other guys." He hated lying to her, almost more than he could stand, but he couldn't let her find out what really happened. If this was the way he had to play it, so be it.

She stared at him, amazed at his lack of responsibility. "I can't believe you!" she shouted, angrily, "We're all here, working as hard as we can to solve this case and trying not to get attacked by the mob, while you're out getting into drunken brawls with criminals!"

Seeing how angry she was, Booth realised his pretence of nonchalance had gone too far. "I'm sorry, Bones-" he began, but Brennan was already on a roll.

"Sorry?" she yelled, before lowering her voice to a sarcastic tone, "What could you possibly be sorry for, Booth? Sorry that I spent all night here, scared out of my mind that my friends would be attacked? Sorry that my closest colleagues had to be placed under observation in case someone made them the next target? Sorry that Zach and Hodgins were nearly frightened to death thinking that the Dellatos were coming after them? Sorry that I had to spend the whole morning arguing with Cullen instead of getting on with doing my job and stopping the killers?"

She paused for breath, seething with anger. "No. You don't care about any of this or any of us. You always say that you're here to protect us, Booth, but when we need you, you're too busy getting into pathetic fights." She glared at him, her contempt evident as she spoke, "How can I trust you to look after us when you can't even look after yourself?"

Her words felt like a slap in the face. Hurt flashed across his face but he hid it quickly.

"I'm sorry," he said coldly. "You're right, I'm not doing any good here. First thing tomorrow, I'll send another agent round to look after you." He met her eyes. "Someone who can take care of himself properly."

"Thank you," she replied harshly as Booth turned and walked back out of the empty lab.

Brennan sank back down behind her desk, thankful that her friends had gone for lunch and so had not seen the confrontation. She put her head in her hands, wondering what she had done.

* * *

Booth stared at the row of digits in front of him and sighed.

It had taken him hours to get the number for Luca Dellato. It felt like he had spoken to every agent in the building, trying to find out whom it was most effective to talk to in the Dellato family and how to reach said person. The general consensus was that Luca was the best person to track down, since he was the most private and so probably had the most influence, after Marco of course.

However, getting hold of the "most private" member of a family with strong mafia connections was not an easy task. Booth had followed tip after tip, calling crooked cops, undercover agents, old associates, anyone who might have a number where Luca Dellato could be reached. In the end, an agent that Booth didn't recognise had delivered him an envelope containing a cell phone number, supposedly belonging to Luca. Now that this number lay on the desk in front of him, Booth didn't know what to say.

 _How do you convince someone who's so used to getting their own way just to let it go?_ he wondered. _It's not even like I've got something to offer in exchange. They're holding all the cards._

He smiled to himself, knowing Bones would never have understood that expression. _Bones._ He felt a sharp stab of pain as he remembered what she had said to him. Not that he blamed her; in her eyes, he had acted like a jerk, apparently going off and spending the night drinking and fighting while she worried for the safety of her friends. _If only she knew..._

He quickly dismissed the thought. He couldn't tell her. He imagined the look on her face if he'd told her he'd really spent the night cuffed to the railings in the Jeffersonian car park, being beaten to a bloody pulp because of something she had. Picturing that look, and feeling sick at the thought, he knew he couldn't tell her. He needed to protect her, and at the moment that meant protecting himself.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone and dialled.


	9. Desperation and Regret

The phone began ringing and Booth took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. The call was answered on the third ring.

"Hello, Agent Booth."

Booth nearly dropped the phone in shock. _How did he know it was him?_ He was rattled but tried to sound confident when he answered, "Am I speaking to Luca Dellato?"

"You are." Luca Dellato's voice was cold and unreadable and Booth immediately knew that this guy was a pro.

"Mr Dellato, I would like to talk to you about a threat made last night to Dr Temperance Brennan," he said, in his most business-like FBI voice.

"A threat? I'm sorry, Agent Booth, but I do not know of any threat. I have never met a woman named Dr. Brennan. You must be mistaken." His words gave nothing away but Booth could almost hear him smiling as he spoke.

Knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere with the standard line of questioning, he tried again, "I'm not here to play games, Mr Dellato. I know how your family operate and I can't let it stand."

Dellato paused and Booth knew that he was deciding whether to continue playing dumb or to acknowledge that he was involved. He sincerely hoped he would choose the latter.

"Come on Mr Dellato, I know you want your brother released and the evidence in the Clarke case to disappear. Maybe we can come to some agreement that won't result in further charges for any of you."

Dellato gave a hollow laugh, "And what further charges would they be, Agent Booth?"

 _Whatever you're planning on doing to me,_ Booth thought, but he replied calmly, "That's up to you, Sir, but I'm sure it's in your best interests to avoid arrest."

"Arrest?" he replied, his tone mocking, "Well, I suppose you agents do like your handcuffs..."

Booth paled, remembering that the exact same words were said to him as he was bound to the railings, unable to raise his hands to protect himself. His voice caught in his throat and Luca Dellato chuckled menacingly at his silence.

"Bring back memories, Agent Booth?"

Fear rose in his gut at this man's supreme confidence and he said, desperation now audible in his voice, "Look, neither of us want it to happen like this. I'll make you a deal. We'll release your brother if you give us a scapegoat." He continued hopefully, "There must be one of your guys who was involved in the Clarke murder. Give us another name, we can arrest him, use what evidence we have, then put this case to bed. We only need one guy and it doesn't have to be your brother."

Booth waited, praying that Dellato would say yes. This was the best he could do - this was his only chance.

"It will not be my brother because he is innocent. I have no connection to the Clarke murder and neither do any of my associates." His voice returned to cold denial and Booth felt his heart sink. "Besides, I have every confidence that my brother will be released free of charge soon and that the team working the Clarke case will lack the necessary evidence to convict anyone."

 _He basically reiterated his demands,_ Booth thought, astonished. _He's never going to back down._

Helplessness surged through him as he tried desperately to think of some other way out of this. "Please," he eventually said, almost begging, "Please, just call this off. She'll never be able to give you what you want. Please, don't do this to her..."

His cruel laugh echoed down the telephone again and Booth closed his eyes in shame.

"To her?" Dellato eventually said, his voice dripping with malice, "I don't intend on doing anything to _her_..."

With that, the phone went dead, leaving the unspoken threat hanging ominously over Booth's head. He sank back into his chair and glanced at the clock. It read 9.30pm. He was out of time and out of options. Grabbing his keys, he headed home, preparing to do the only thing left he could do - go down fighting.

* * *

Temperance Brennan sat at her desk, exhausted. It had been a stressful day - dealing with Cullen, arguing with Booth and failing to find any incriminating evidence on Maria Clarke's body. _At least the Dellatos haven't shown up yet,_ she thought, trying to look on the bright side. _They probably know we can't find enough evidence to charge them with the murder._ The bright side was clearly quite small.

She glanced at her clock and saw that it was nearly 10pm. She normally worked much later than this, but for some reason she felt drained. Ignoring her body's calls for sleep, she opened up the case file and stared at the photos again, when she heard a gentle tap on her door. Looking up, she saw Angela, equally tired, leaning against the door frame.

"Honey, its almost 10. You're really not going to get anything done if you don't go home and sleep," Angela said, a tired smile on her face.

Brennan nodded reluctantly, knowing that she was right as usual. She began to gather up her things but then realised that it was strange that Angela was here this late. Normally, she would be telling her to go home over the phone.

"Why are you here?" she said bluntly, then rephrased it, seeing her friend's surprised look, "I mean, you don't normally work this late..."

"With good reason!" the artist replied cheerfully. "Seriously, Bren, how do you manage this?"

Temperance remained silent, still waiting for an answer to her question. Angela saw this, and sighed, "If you must know, I was waiting for Booth to come by. I've not seen him all day, and I thought he'd turn up at some point."

She frowned in confusion, "Why would you be waiting for Booth?"

"Just to check he's okay, like people do when they're concerned about each other. This Dellato situation's kinda hard on all of us," she said, innocently, hoping the anthropologist wouldn't press further. She breathed an inward sigh of relief when Brennan seemed satisfied with her answer.

"Sorry, Ange, but Booth came by at lunchtime and I don't think he'll be coming back."

"Won't be coming back?" Angela raised her eyebrows, surprised.

"Today. Won't be back today." Temperance tried to cover her mistake but it was too late.

"What did you say to him?" she asked, knowing that her friend was hiding something.

 _How does she always know that something's wrong?_ Brennan thought to herself, frustrated by Angela's deadly accurate intuition. Avoiding her eyes, she mumbled, "We had an argument, that's all."

"About what?" Angela asked with interest, coming to sit in the chair in front of the desk. Noting Brennan's silence, she tried again, "What did he do this time?"

Brennan looked up at the question. "Did you see him this morning?" she inquired sharply. Angela nodded, not wanting to picture it again.

She continued, righteous indignation in her voice, "He's an FBI agent, for crying out loud! He said that he would protect me, protect all of us, from any repercussions in the Dellato case, and then he goes out and gets into a fist-fight with some idiots he bailed the day before! On top of that, he turns up late this morning, shows no interest in the case or our safety, so..."

"So...?" Angela prompted gently, hoping that her friend hadn't said something stupid.

"So I told him to get out," she finished, decisively, "And to send us an agent who could actually take care of himself."

Angela winced on Booth's behalf, knowing how much that would've hurt coming from Brennan. "Oh, sweetie..." she said, shaking her head sadly. "Did he really deserve that?"

"Yes!" Temperance exclaimed, but the doubt was evident in her voice. She'd been thinking the same thing ever since she'd said it. "If he was stupid enough to get in a brawl..." she trailed off, losing her conviction.

Angela realised that she'd been wrestling with this all day and decided that she couldn't let her wrestle with it all night too. "Go and see him," she commanded, quietly but firmly. Brennan's head jerked up.

"No!" she said, angrily, "I am not apologising to him! If anything he-"

"I'm not telling you to apologise, Bren," she interrupted. "You're the one who doesn't like drawing conclusions without all the evidence, right? Go and see Booth and look at his hands. You can shout at him as much as you like afterwards, but just look at his hands first."

"His hands? How will that possibly help with anything?" she asked, bewildered.

"Just do it," the artist said simply as she turned and headed out.

Temperance sat there, perplexed, for a few more minutes. _His hands? What information could there possibly be on his hands?_ Curiosity aroused, she gathered her things together, walked briskly to her car and headed for Booth's.

* * *

The hands of the clock moved closer and closer to 11pm. Booth paced round his apartment nervously, trying to think if he'd forgotten anything.

Doors locked, _check._ Windows locked, _check._ Curtains pulled, _check._ Guns loaded, _check._ New rounds nearby, _check._ Possible weapons out of sight, _check._ Parker, _check._ He prayed that his goodnight phone call to his son wouldn't be the last one he'd ever make. With one final glance at his surroundings, Booth switched off the lights. He needed to give his eyes time to adjust to the darkness, since it was the only advantage he had against the men who were coming.

Sitting in his chair, facing the door, he watched as the shadows of the tree branches waved in the wind, trying to decide how he wanted this to end. He didn't want to die. He didn't want his kid to grow up without a father. But at the same time, he did not want to be captured and used against Bones. He didn't want her to be forced to decide between his life and her principles.

His hand rested loosely on his gun, and he felt his backup against his ankle. He wanted to kill them, he decided. That was how this should end.

Suddenly he saw lights outside as a car pulled up in front of his house. He tightened his grip on the gun, his heart pounding in his ears. He heard footsteps walking up to the door and he swallowed hard, offering up a quick prayer for deliverance.

The knocker on his door pounded once and Booth held his breath in fear.


	10. Revelations

Dr. Brennan banged the door again with the heavy metal knocker. _Come on, Booth, I know you're in there._ She had seen his lights go out as she had rounded the corner to his street, so she knew that he couldn't have been asleep just yet. Knocking for a third time, she called out, "Booth? It's me!" Getting no response, she elaborated, "It's Brennan!" Hearing nothing, she tried again, frustration mounting, "Open up, Booth! I just need to ask you something!"

She heard the sound of the door being unlocked and stepped back. Booth appeared at the door looking tired and stressed, and she could've sworn she saw relief pass over his face when he saw her there. She immediately looked to his hands, but one was behind the door and the other was in his pocket. _Damn._

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" she asked, some of the tension from their earlier argument still present.

Expecting some kind of sarcastic comment in reply, she was surprised when he just said, "It's late, Bones..."

"I'll be quick," she said, unaware of his obvious discomfort, and she moved past him into the dark house. Glancing nervously outside, Booth shut the door and followed her in, turning the lights back on as he went.

"What's do you want, Bones?" he asked tiredly, praying she would take the hint and leave.

Brennan, who had never knowingly taken a hint in her life, said bluntly, "Let me see your hands."

Booth raised his eyebrows in surprise, but kept his hands firmly planted in the pockets of his pants. He'd been so busy trying to get his defence together that he hadn't yet changed out of his suit and at that moment he was thankful for the long sleeves of the shirt that covered his bandaged wrists. "Why do you want to see my hands?" he asked suspiciously.

Temperance sighed. _Why were people always less willing to show you something if they knew you wanted to see it?_ "Angela told me to come here and look at your hands," she said, reluctant to admit that she had no idea why she wanted to see them. "Stop being such a child and just let me look." Booth made no movement. "I'm not leaving here till I see them," she threatened seriously.

Keen to get her to leave, Booth held his hands out quickly and wiggled his fingers. "They're just hands, Bones, see?" He placed one on the small of her back and guided her towards the door. "Thanks for dropping by, see you around."

He tried to manoeuvre her out of the door but she grabbed his elbow and turned round, examining his hand more closely. "What's the matter, Bones, am I missing a finger or something?" he inquired in frustration. She let go of his hand and stepped back away from the door, a mixture of confusion and betrayal on her face.

"You lied to me," she said, hurt mingling with anger, "You were never in a fight. You've got no bruises on your knuckles, so you can't have hit anyone, but you've not got any defensive wounds either. In a fight, humans instinctively bring their hands up to their face to defend themselves, but you didn't. What's going on, Booth?"

"Nothing, Bones, okay?" he said, quickly. He knew she wouldn't believe him, but he had to try to do something to get rid of her. Denial seemed the best option. Seeing that she wasn't convinced, he spoke again, harshly, "This really isn't your business, _Dr. Brennan_. You made it pretty clear today that you don't need me as your partner. We don't work together anymore and I don't need you here. Get out."

She stepped back, stunned at what he had said to her. Glaring at him, she yelled, "Fine! Have it your way. I actually came out here to give you a second chance, but it looks like I was right with the first one." Angrily, she walked back to the door, trying not to look at her former partner. Suddenly, a piece of paper with her name on caught her eye and she stopped, reading it in horror,

 _Quis custodiet custodem, Dr Brennan?_

 _Prove that Maria Clarke was not killed by Marco Gianni Dellato._

 _Her remains and all evidence gathered should be boxed up and will be collected from outside the side entrance to the Jeffersonian at 11pm on Wednesday evening._

She slowly raised her eyes from the paper to look at Booth. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. For the first time in her life, Brennan was speechless.

Seeing her eyes drop back to the paper, Booth moved over to her quickly, doing his best to reassure her. "Bones, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I never wanted you to find out like this. Please believe me..." He reached out to touch her but she backed away from his hand, still in shock. "Temperance, please..."

She met his gaze again, and said slowly, "You're the target. They did this to you because of me, didn't they?"

"No," he said firmly, grasping her arm, "This is not your fault."

She pulled her arm away roughly. "Stop lying to me!" she shouted. "What were you thinking? Why didn't you tell me? This is _my_ problem, Booth, that letter is addressed to me!"

"I'm sorry," he replied quietly. "I thought I could handle it, make it go away or something. I didn't want..." He took a deep breath. "I didn't want to put you through this. I didn't want you to have to do what they wanted because of me."

"That was never your choice to make," she said, flatly. "You should have told me."

"I'm sorry," he said, quietly but sincerely. She softened as she saw the honesty and regret in his eyes.

"What happened, Booth?" she asked gently. "How did you really get those bruises?"

He looked down, ashamed, "I, uh, I was walking back up to my car, when I got jumped by someone. I managed to take his gun away from him, but three others came up behind me, all armed. They shoved me against a wall, took my gun, cell and jacket then told me to put that on." He motioned to the guard jacket that hung over a chair still. Temperance nodded in comprehension.

" _Quis custodiet custodem?_ " she said, as if that explained it clearly. Booth gestured for her to elaborate and she did, "It's Latin for "Who guards the guard?". Usually it is used in an analogical sense to apply to the need to police state rulers, who are themselves above the law, but I think they are using it literally here. The guard jacket confirms your role as our protector, and so..."

"They think I can't look after myself either," Booth finished, slightly bitterly.

Temperance suddenly remembered what she had said to him earlier in the day and spoke quietly, filled with guilt, "Booth, about before, I'm so sorry. You know that I wouldn't-"

She was silenced by a grateful nod from Booth, "I know, Bones, I know."

The silence that hung in the air was so awkward that Brennan almost felt relieved to have a question to ask. "Did you recognise any of the men who attacked you?"

He shook his head. "They all had their faces covered and only one spoke. I might recognise the voice if I heard it again, but it sounded similar to Marco Dellato."

"A brother?" she inquired.

"It's not Luca, I spoke to him today and his voice didn't sound familiar. Could've been Sal, but there's no way I can prove that."

"What else did they do?" she prompted gently, hoping he might remember something important.

"That was the most important bit really, " he said, despondently. "After that, they handcuffed me to the railings on the stairs, beat me up, burned me with that damn target of theirs, then knocked me out. Next thing I remember is waking up with duct tape on my mouth, that message in a hat on my head and a helluva lot of bruises."

"How long were you there for?" she asked, pity in her voice.

"Till Angela came by this morning and let me go," he answered, matter-of-factly.

"Angela? She knew?"

"Whoa, Bones, no! I told her pretty much what I told you this morning. I don't think she bought it, but you don't tend to argue with a guy who's spent the night as a human punchbag." She looked appalled by this comparison and Booth gave her the most reassuring smile he could manage. "Hey, it's okay, I'm fine, see?" He winked at her with his bruised eye and for the first time that evening a smile crossed her face.

Their smiles disappeared as they heard a second car stop in front of Booth's house. Peering through the window, they saw five men, dressed in black, get out and start walking up the drive. Brennan could hear Booth's breathing become shallow and she felt her own heart begin to pound in her chest. "What do we do?" she whispered urgently, hoping that he would have a plan.

Booth didn't have a plan. His last option, of going down, guns ablazing, and hopefully taking some of them with him, had been thwarted by Brennan's arrival. He couldn't risk her getting hurt if an all-out firefight started.

Pulling her away from the window, he looked her straight in the eyes and spoke as clearly and calmly as he could manage, "Listen to me. I don't have a lot of time here, but I want you to do something for me. Don't give up, okay? Don't give them what they want. Make sure they pay for this. Use any traces that you can find on the letter or the guard uniform. Get Angela to show you where the attack took place and look there. I need you to help me, Bones, but I need you to do it without giving up."

She shook her head, amazed at what she was hearing, "No! What if we can't find any more evidence? What if they kill you because of me? We need to give them what they want, it's the only way that they'll leave us alone."

"No, it's not. If you get me back by giving up your only chance to get justice for Maria Clarke, you will blame me forever. You won't mean to, but you will. I don't want that, Temperance, so I need you to promise me that you'll find some other way to help me."

He was silenced by a loud bang against the door.

"Promise me!" he said, panic rising in his voice. She nodded mutely, scared by how frightened Booth was. She had seen so many emotions in him throughout their partnership, but she had never seen him this afraid.

Seeing her silent nod, Booth gave a small sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said honestly, looking her in the eyes. There was another thud at the door, as the men outside tried to get in.

"Booth," she said, quietly, as they crouched together at the back of the room, "I don't want you to die."

He gave her a small smile. "Good," he said, in the strongest voice he could manage, "Then you won't kill me for doing this." Before she could open her mouth to object, he pulled her into a kiss, and to Brennan, it seemed like the rest of the world went away for a moment. As quickly as it has started, the kiss ended when Booth leapt suddenly to his feet, Brennan following.

They stood there, helpless, as the five men brought their guns to rest on them, smiling coldly.


	11. At Gunpoint

Sal Dellato lowered his weapon, surveying the pair in front of him. He had met the man before - Special Agent Seeley Booth. He smiled broadly when he saw the extent of the injuries from the previous night, impressed with his men's handiwork. His dark eyes shifted to the woman who stood next to the agent and recognition dawned on him - Dr Temperance Brennan. _So this is the woman we're trying to motivate,_ he thought with a grin. _She's a pretty one. But from the way they were when we came in, I'm surprised she hasn't handed over that evidence yet._ He shrugged. _She will do by the time we're finished._

"Hands on your heads," he called out loudly, kicking the front door shut behind him. He hated being disturbed during a kidnapping.

Booth did as he was told and Brennan followed, glancing up at him for confirmation. "Hey, eyes forward!" Sal shouted, making her jump away from her partner slightly. He nodded to his men, "Search them. And make it quick."

The four men walked over to the two captives. They dragged Booth away from Brennan and pushed them both up against separate walls; one held the gun on them while the other quickly and expertly searched for weapons and tracking devices. When they were satisfied, they taped their hands roughly behind their backs and shoved them back towards the middle of the room, forcing them to their knees. Sal smirked when he heard Booth wince as the tape cut into his already bleeding wrists.

Brennan heard too, and spoke out, trying to appeal to Sal's logic, "Look, you don't need to do this yet! I only just found out what you wanted; you need to give me more time to arrange it for you." He turned to face her, and she continued, hoping it was hesitation she saw in his eyes, "I was supposed to have 24 hours, remember? Give me that time and we can give you what you want. You don't have to do this!"

His answer was a hard backhand across her face. She cried out in pain and Booth started forward, calling in shock, "Bones!"

Both of them were silenced by the guns in their faces and Sal crouched menacingly in front of Temperance, his face close to hers. "You were given the allotted amount of time," he said, coldly. "You've only got him to blame if you didn't get the chance to use it wisely."

He saw Booth's eyes drop to the floor in shame and he moved to face him. "And as for you, Agent Booth, all this could have been avoided." He motioned to the two men guarding Brennan and they hoisted her back to her feet. Seeing his worried look, he smiled wickedly, "I guess this is all down to you." Still looking straight at Booth, he called to the men, "Take her to the bedroom!"

"No!" Booth shouted so sharply that even the Dellatos' thugs stopped on his command. "You've got me, I'm the one you came for. Leave her alone."

The men holding her glanced at each other, taken aback by the authority in his voice. Sal looked between them in disbelief. "You're taking orders from a hostage?" he asked, angrily. "Take her to the bedroom! Now!" This time the men did as they were told, and Brennan's cries for help were silenced as the heavy door was slammed shut.

Turning back to Booth, Sal delivered a swift kick to his gut, making him double over as the air was knocked out of his lungs. He bent over him again, grabbing him by the hair and wrenching his head back, ignoring Booth's pained groans. Leaning close to his ear, he paused so that Booth could just make out the sounds of a struggle in the bedroom and the faint jingle of metal.

Laughing cruelly, he whispered, "Bet you always thought _you_ 'd be the one tying her to the bed..." A surge of anger shot through Booth and he instinctively swung his head to the side, slamming hard into his captor's nose.

Sal Dellato screamed in pain as he felt his nose crack under the impact and he staggered back, trying to stop the blood that was now gushing down his face. The door to the bedroom swung open in response to the screams and the two men rushed out to help the man who was evidently their boss. Glancing through the door, Booth was relieved to see that Brennan had been left on the floor, gagged and cuffed to a bedpost but otherwise unhurt.

Sitting up as best she could, Temperance peered out into the lounge area and silently thanked Booth for getting the men away from her. They clearly hadn't been instructed to hurt her but that hadn't stopped them from "accidentally" running their hands all over her as they bound her to the foot of the bed and stuffed the cloth in her mouth.

As she looked around, her attention was drawn to the leader, who had fallen back onto Booth's couch, clutching his nose, and she couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction. Hearing a sudden cry of pain, she knelt up and craned her neck to see where it came from. Her eyes widened as she saw Booth on his knees, being kicked viciously from all sides by the four other men.

She tried to scream for them to stop, but her cries were muffled by the dense gag. Desperately she looked back to the leader, who she guessed was one of the Dellato brothers, and was glad to see him get to his feet and shout for his men to stop. As they stepped back, she could just make out Booth gasping for breath on the floor and she hoped fervently that they hadn't broken any ribs.

Her focus shifted back to the unidentified Dellato and she saw that he was walking towards her. She shouted through her gag as he entered the room, but he ignored her completely as he checked her restrainsts, clearly more concerned with his injured nose.

Nodding contentedly, he dangled the handcuff keys in front of her, then tossed them under the bed. As he leaned in close to her, he whispered gruffly, "Get working on those demands. We'll be in touch."

With that, he turned back to the main room, where two thugs had draped a coat over Booth's back to hide his bound hands and were now pushing him at gunpoint towards the waiting car. Still holding his broken nose, their leader followed them out, slamming the door behind him and leaving her all alone in the silence of the apartment.

Temperance sat motionless for a few moments still trying to comprehend what had happened. _They've taken Booth,_ she thought, still reeling from what she had just witnessed. _And they'll kill him if I don't do something._ Motivated by the threat of Booth's murder, she twisted herself round as best she could and scanned quickly under the bed for the handcuff keys. Her eyes lit up as she saw them glisten in the darkness and she stretched her leg as far back as it would go, hoping to hear the metal keys jangle against her hard boots.

Hearing nothing, she pulled her leg back and looked again, realising that they were further away than she first thought. Still desperate to save her partner, she shifted herself into a crouching position and braced her feet against the floor. Pushing back as hard as she could, she managed to move the bed slightly to the side, so that she could see the keys more clearly in the centre of the floor.

Lying down on her side, she stretched her legs out again and tried to block out the pain as the metal strained against her wrists. She was rewarded by the soft clink of the keys against her feet and she brought her legs up to her chest, scooping the keys along with them.

When she had finally managed to get herself free, she ran straight to the door. She quickly realised how irrational her behaviour was when she saw that the car, along with Booth, was already long gone.

Focused on the need to help her partner, she ran swiftly to the phone and called Angela, ignoring the fact that her hands were still shaking. Waving away her best friend's complaints about the late hour, Brennan instructed her to call Zach and Hodgins and to meet her at the Jeffersonian as quickly as possible. Angela's worried questions still tumbled down the line as Temperance hung up, unwilling to discuss the situation when she had barely come to terms with it herself.

Mechanically, she moved round Booth's apartment, collecting any evidence she could find and sealing it in sandwich bags she had procured from his kitchen. Without stopping, she quickly and methodically processed the bedroom, lounge and sofa, where she found drops of blood from the broken nose. However, she did feel a shiver run through her as she took a sample of Booth's blood from the floor.

The sound of the kicks slamming into his ribs reverberated through her mind and, closing her eyes, she resolved to work faster, not wanting to leave him in the hands of the men who did this for any longer than was necessary.


	12. Contact

Jack Hodgins rubbed his eyes and yawned loudly, leaning back on Dr Brennan's couch, while Angela Montenegro clutched her cup of coffee tightly, fully aware that it was the only thing keeping her awake. Zach Addy's head drooped down onto his chest as sleep came over his eyes, but it rose up again slightly as he heard the door slam shut.

Dr. Brennan dropped the large pile of evidence down on the table in front of her tired colleagues. Noticing that even the purposeful noise of the door hadn't fully roused them, she spoke bluntly, not wishing to waste any time, "The Dellatos have Booth."

That seemed to do the trick as they all jerked awake and stared at her, wide-eyed in disbelief. Hodgins was the first to break the stunned silence, "What?"

Angela ignored his shocked exclamation as she said, almost to herself, "Oh my god... It was them. He said it wasn't but it must've been..."

"What?" Hodgins tried again, this time seriously interested in what she had begun to disclose.

Brennan also ignored him, confirming what Angela had already guessed, "Yes, it was them. They came to his apartment and took him away. I couldn't do anything to stop them."

Angela suddenly looked up towards her friend, realising the implication of her words, "You were there?" She nodded and the artist's concerned questions continued, "Honey, are you alright? Did they hurt you? What happened?"

"Yes, Angela, I'm okay; one of them hit me, but I'm fine. I'm more concerned with Booth right now." She tossed the bag containing the note down on the table and watched their mouths drop open as they read it.

" _Now_ I'm following you," Hodgins said, nodding in comprehension. Seeing that Zach obviously wasn't following them, he summarised briefly, "Let me guess, Booth got beat up recently and said it was nothing. Then you went round to his place tonight, he got kidnapped and you found the list of demands that was intended for you?"

She nodded, "Incorrect sequence but correct events. The Dellatos have made Booth the target and are currently holding him hostage until we release Marco and hand over all the Clarke evidence. I was supposed to have 24 hours to comply before the kidnap, but Booth didn't give me the note till an hour ago." In response to Angela's confused look, she added, "He wanted to deal with it himself, but I don't think he could get them to back off."

"So what do we do now?" Hodgins asked, leaning forward in his seat and a hint of bitterness in his voice, "Start gathering the evidence to turn over to the mob?"

Temperance shook her head emphatically. "No," she said firmly, "Booth asked me not to give everything up to them. He told me to use this," she indicated the pile of evidence she had carried in, "and anything else we have to make sure the Dellatos are convicted."

"But if we find enough to convict them," Zach spoke up for the first time that night, "It follows that they would kill Agent Booth as a means of destroying some of the evidence."

"That's why we're going to find him," she said determinedly. "We can examine what we have in order to connect the Dellatos to his abduction, but we also have to work out where they might have taken him. That way, we can inform the FBI so that they can go and arrest them, and save Booth at the same time."

Angela, Zach and Hodgins all nodded slowly. None of them were convinced that it was the most fool-proof of plans, but they couldn't think of anything else that wouldn't result in Booth's death or the Dellatos getting away with murder.

Brennan seemed satisfied with their response and began issuing orders, just like it was a normal day at the lab, "Angela, take Zach to wherever you found Booth in the car park and see what evidence you can get from there. Be sure to stay together." Angela nodded and led Zach quickly out of the office, her face still pale with worry.

She continued, "Hodgins, help me process what I found at Booth's apartment." He immediately got to his feet and began gathering up the bags, but stopped as she placed a hand on his arm. "But if you have any spare time, I need you to find out any information you can about previous kidnappings. See if they favour a particular location, or if the surviving targets have any memories of where they were taken."

He frowned, surprised, "You do realise that this isn't the most readily available information?"

"I am aware of that, Hodgins," she said, curtly, but quickly softened, "Look, if anyone could do it..."

"It'd be the conspiracy bug guy," he finished with a grin. "I'll get right on it." He hurried out of the office, glad to be of some use.

Temperance sat down slowly on her desk as she felt the adrenaline begin to ebb. For the first time, she felt tears prick her eyes as she thought of what might be happening to Booth but she blinked them away in frustration. She had always avoided hypothesising or imagining without knowing the full facts and now should be no different. Forcing herself back to her feet, she marched out into the lab, determined to find something that would help her partner.

* * *

Jack Hodgins sighed with exhaustion. _These guys are good,_ he admitted silently to himself. All the evidence he had found had come from totally common sources. The writing on the tape Angela gave him was from a marker pen sold in practically every stationary shop in the state. The handcuffs Brennan had been bound with were regulation police issue, making them impossible to trace. The only particulates he had picked up were from a sycamore tree, and probably the one in front of Booth's place at that.

The only solid connection he had so far was the blood from the attacker's nose. Brennan was sure that it came from either Sal or Luca Dellato, since his accent had been similar to Marco's, but neither of them had their DNA in the system so he had no way of confirming that. He told Brennan exactly that as she walked into the room a moment later.

"Nothing?" she said, trying to hide her disappointment.

He shook his head sadly, "Not yet, no. I've called some of my contacts while I've been waiting for results, but if anyone knows anything, they're too scared to tell me about it. They're also not talking about what actually happens to the target once the Dellatos get ahold of them, which really isn't the best news for B-"

The sound of a phone silenced him and both doctors searched quickly for their cells. Temperance found that it was hers that was ringing and she answered it swiftly, noting that it was an unknown number, "Brennan?"

"Dr Brennan," said a deep voice, which she realised had been modified to disguise the identity of the speaker, "You have an hour to secure the release of Marco Gianni Dellato from police custody and to drop all charges against him."

"Who is this?" she asked, shaken, "Where's Booth?"

The voice ignored her questions. "If you do not," it said without emotion, "Then we will contact you again in one hour and Seeley Booth will suffer for your lack of compromise."

Brennan felt a strange surge of hope at the words and asked, "He's alive? Is he hurt? Can he hear me? Booth?"

She was interrupted as the voice spoke again, "There is a package for you outside the back door." With that, the call was cut off and she closed her phone, almost in a daze. _He's alive,_ she reminded herself in relief, _At least he's alive._

Remembering the message about a package, she walked straight out past Hodgins, barely acknowledging his questions about what was clearly an important call. Just as the voice had said, she found a brown envelope addressed to her sitting on the step outside the Jeffersonian.

A tiny part of her mind told her to wait and have it checked for bombs or fingerprints, but the rest screamed at her to open it, desperate to know what was inside. Weighing up the options internally, she took it to her desk, not noticing that the rest of her team had followed her to her office. Being careful to touch it as little as possible, she sliced the top off with a letter opener and tipped the contents out in full view of everyone.

The relief that she had previously felt vanished, and her heart sank as she stared at what lay before her.


	13. Worth a Thousand Words

_Flames, waterfalls and car-crashes,_ Temperance Brennan thought to herself in horror. _There are only a few things that humans are instinctively unable to take their eyes off._ As she stared at the photos before her, she decided that this definitely fell into the latter category.

Scattered across her desk lay Polaroid photos of Booth. She estimated that there were about ten, but she, like the rest of the squints, was more focused on what was in the pictures than how many of them there were. None of them gave a full view of him, showing instead smaller areas but in excruciating detail.

She saw his wrists, fastened to a hook above his head, with blood trickling down his forearms from where they had ripped off his bandages. She saw his feet, covered with brightly patterned socks that were now coated with dirt from where they dragged on the floor. She saw his upper body, clothed only in his blood-stained shirt which hung crookedly over his belt. She saw part of his face, blood running from his nose to his chin and his mouth gagged by his own tie.

But the picture which chilled her to the core was just a picture of his eyes. To her, Booth's eyes had seemed full of life; even when he was angry or upset, she always saw some sort of spark there. The eyes which now looked up at her were Booth's, but without that spark she felt like she was looking at a stranger.

"Bren..."

She looked up as she heard Angela say her name gently, and it was only then that she realised that she had tears trailing down her pale cheeks. "I- uh, I got a call," she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking, "They said I had an hour to release Marco or, uh," she struggled for the words, "well, they didn't exactly specify but..."

"They'd hurt him," Angela said, softly, knowing what her friend couldn't say. Temperance just nodded mutely, still staring at the pictures. "What do you want to do?" she asked quietly, walking slowly towards the anthropologist who sat before her. She laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, hating to see her friend like this.

Brennan jumped away suddenly at the touch and sprang to her feet. Angela sighed inwardly as she saw her defences go up again, locking her feelings and emotions away; she knew it would do her no good to bottle herself up at a time like this. "Sweetie..." she ventured again, but Brennan had made up her mind.

"Angela, could you take these photos to your office and analyse them? See if you can get a better idea of where the Dellatos are working from." Angela nodded, not overjoyed at the thought of looking at the pictures for hours but aware of their importance in their search. Sweeping them up into a bag, she dashed out of the lab, noting how relieved her friend seemed to be once the photos had gone.

Turning to Hodgins, Brennan gave her instructions, "Do what you can to trace that call." She tossed him her cell phone. "But if it rings again, bring it straight to me, understood?" Like Angela before him, Hodgins nodded and moved swiftly out of her office, unsure how to deal with his boss when she was like this.

Finally, she addressed Zach, "We know that Booth was taken at approximately 11.15pm and this package was delivered here at 1.30am."

Zach's brain clicked into gear, immediately knowing what he was required to do, "Assuming that the pictures were taken as soon as they arrived at the location, the set up would have taken a minimum of five minutes and the development of the pictures would be two to three minutes each. Multiplying by ten and allowing for overlap, the total time spent transporting Agent Booth to the location would be a maximum of two hours, meaning that the location can be no more than one hour's journey away by car."

Brennan smiled appreciatively, "Excellent, Zach. Now I need you to help Angela to narrow down her search to anywhere that is accessible by car within one hour." He hastened to Angela's office, not fully understanding Dr Brennan's sudden change in demeanour from crying to smiling, but glad that she had been focused enough to give him clear instructions.

Temperance slid back down into her chair when he'd gone, head in her hands. _Why are you surprised?_ she asked herself angrily, _They were always going to hurt him, it's just now I know they have._ She felt a wave of despondency wash over her as she wondered, _Will I be too late? Will they kill him no matter what I do?_ Determined to ensure she had all possible bases covered, she got to her feet once again and hurried out to talk to Hodgins.

* * *

Almost an hour after the original phone call, everyone seemed to unconsciously convene in Brennan's office. Angela stepped up to speak first, Zach standing close behind her, "Well, we compared the photos and locations within a one hour travelling distance, but we still have too many matches to be able to pinpoint one in particular." She gestured to the photos as she explained her findings, "From what we can see, the building has no windows and an artificial light source..."

Zach cut in, "But they were taken at night so the windows may not be visible and even if we accept these specifications, the location could be any basement, warehouse, storage facility, darkroom, boat..."

He was silenced by a glare from Angela, who continued, "The hook does suggest a higher ceiling, some place where pulleys might be needed."

Zach chipped in again, "Since we can't see the whole of the hook, we can't rule out the possibility that it is merely attached somehow to a lower ceiling, which would mean basements and smaller storage spaces should still be included in the search."

Sighing in frustration, Angela attempted to finish delivering her analysis, "The only other thing we could pick up on was the concrete floor. It looked like it had some sort of varnish on, maybe to prevent bloodstains."

"Or it could be water. Or the light catching the camera lens," Zach added, unknowingly pessimistic, "Whereas the concrete floor is common to many locations. Except boats," he said, with a note of triumph in his voice, "Booth is definitely not being held on a boat."

"Gee, Zach," Hodgins said, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "Here we were thinking Booth was on one of the many boats that are less than an hour away from here."

Brennan interrupted briskly, knowing there wasn't time for arguments, "Hodgins, did you get anywhere with tracing the call?"

He shook his head dejectedly. "I tried," he said, "But from what you told me about the voice, it sounds like they ran the call through a computer first, altering the voice and scrambling the origin. I can keep working on it, but so far the signal seems to have come through Beijing, Marseilles, Sydney, Houston and Oslo."

She was about to open her mouth in reply when the phone in Hodgins' hand began to ring. On Brennan's nod, he flicked it open and put it on speakerphone while she answered, "Hello?"

"There is a package for you outside the back door." The pallor of Brennan's face told the rest of them that this was the same voice as before.

Angela hurried out to get the package, while Brennan attempted to reason with the kidnapper, "We got your last package, but I'm not giving you anything without proof of life." She was met with silence and tried again, "Just let me speak to him. I need to know he's alright."

There was still no reply. She was about to try again, when Angela came running back in, clutching another package identical to the first. Wordlessly, she set it down on the desk and her friend sliced it open again, tipping out another set of photos. Everyone in the office moved in to get a better look but they were all bemused by what they saw.

There were another ten Polaroid pictures but these were not of Booth. They depicted seemingly random but disturbing objects; a bottle of an unidentified poison, a noose, a police baton, a crackle of electric sparks, a hammer, a whip, a knife, a container filled with water, a gun and a flame. They lay on the desk in no order, but each had a large number written in the corner in thick black pen.

Brennan shook her head as she scanned the new set of pictures and said, softly, "I don't know what this means."

The voice on the phone, which she had momentarily forgotten about, laughed briefly, "Check your email, Dr Brennan."

She did as she was instructed and found a message that seemed to be from Angela's account. She looked at her questioningly, but Angela shook her head in confusion, just as bewildered as her friend. Afraid of what she might find, Temperance nervously opened the email, only to find that it contained a link, simply labelled "Click." Taking a deep breath, she clicked and jumped at the sight before her.

Her screen was filled with a video image of a man in black, standing close to the camera and holding a microphone to his mouth, which itself was covered by a black mask. In the background, she could see Booth. He was in a similar state to the photographs she had seen earlier and his head hung limply down, resting on his chest.

"Booth!" she shouted loudly, hoping for some reaction from him, "Booth, it's me! Booth!"

The voice laughed again and she now realised it was coming from the man sitting in front of the camera. "He can't hear you," he said, "You are speaking directly to my earpiece." She sank back to her seat, only then realising that she had stood up when she caught sight of Booth.

The man continued, speaking slowly and menacingly, "You were told to release Marco Gianni Dellato and you have failed to comply. Now Seeley Booth will pay the price."

She saw Booth raise his head weakly in the background but was unable to make out the expression on his face. "No..." she said, desperately, "Don't hurt him, please!"

"You should have thought of that before, Dr Brennan," the abductor said, without emotion, "Now, pick a number."

The whole room froze at the command and their eyes turned back to the pictures in front of them.

"Oh God..." Angela whispered, horrified.

"No," Temperance said defiantly, "I will not tell you how to kill him." The laughter came again, making her feel sick to her stomach.

"None of them are designed to kill, Dr Brennan. They will hurt, yes, but he will live through all of them until we decide otherwise." He spoke calmly, with practised ease, "But if you are refusing to choose, I will choose for you." There was a deafening silence. "Ten!"

Her eyes widened as they darted to the pictures and saw the image of a gun above the number ten. Looking back to the screen, she saw that the man had moved away from the camera and that it was now focused on Booth. She watched as another man walked slowly towards him, a gun glinting in his hand.

"Where to start?" the voice wondered from behind the camera. "Ah," he said, maliciously, "The kneecaps..."

Frozen in shock, she stared at the screen as Booth looked at the gun coming towards him, struggling with his restrainsts and shaking his head desperately. The henchman raised the gun, aiming it carefully at his right knee, and she saw her partner close his eyes, bracing himself for the shot.

"No!" she shouted suddenly, unable to take anymore, "Stop it! I'll pick a number, just stop!" The henchman lowered his gun, and she saw Booth breathe a sigh of relief.

The leader stepped in front of the camera again, obscuring her view. "Pick," he demanded. "Now."

She glanced down quickly at the pictures, trying to decide which to choose. _What would hurt least? What would give us a clue as to where he is? What wouldn't leave a scar?_

"I won't ask you again," the man threatened, and she looked back at the screen.

"Seven," she said quietly, hoping Booth would forgive her, "I choose number seven."


	14. Lucky Number Seven

"Seven!"

The instruction Brennan had given was shouted by the man in front of the camera, who then moved aside and shifted the focus back to Booth. Brennan saw the confusion and fear in his eyes as he fell hard to the ground when his wrists were freed. Disoriented and surprised, he was unable to fight back as two of the Dellatos' cronies once again bound his aching arms together behind his back, before pulling him to his feet and dragging him over to a large barrel.

"Take off his gag!" the deep voice bellowed, making everyone in Brennan's office jump.

One of the cronies roughly pulled the tie out of his mouth and tossed it on the floor. Booth used his new-found freedom of speech to yell, "Get the hell off me!"

His voice was weak and croaky, and Brennan guessed he had tried to shout through the gag for a long time. Before he could say anything else, his captors forced his head down hard, stopping inches above the dark water in the barrel. The camera zoomed in tightly so all the squints gathered around Brennan's computer could see the anxiety on Booth's face as he struggled against the hands holding him tightly.

The voice boomed again, "This could've been avoided, Dr Brennan. Maybe next time you'll be more co-operative."

Hearing this, and realising that Brennan could at least hear what was happening, Booth shouted with renewed energy, "Bones? Bones, I'm okay. Don't-"

He was silenced as the hands pressed down harder on his head, forcing him under the water.

Back in the lab, there was a collective intake of breath as they watched him thrash desperately in the water, unable to help or even speak to him.

He was under for what seemed like an eternity before they heard a sharp cry of pain from one of the men holding him down. The crony fell to the floor, holding his ankle and releasing his grip on Booth, who immediately burst to the surface and sank to his knees, taking as much air into his lungs as he could.

Seeing the faint look of satisfaction of his face as he glanced at the fallen guard, Brennan quickly realised that Booth had managed to kick his ankle while he was being held underwater. From the volume of the man's screams, she estimated that it was broken or dislocated, and smiled slightly at the thought.

Her smile abruptly vanished as Booth received a violent backhand from the man's partner, knocking him to the floor. The injured man spat at him, while his colleague grabbed the nearest weapon and brought it down hard on his ankle in retaliation. Booth cried out as the butt of what looked like a gun smashed into his leg and tried to move away as the man raised the weapon again.

"Enough!"

The attacker lowered his weapon at the shout of the man behind the camera and Brennan breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Finish it," the leader said slowly and two more men emerged from off camera. As the first pair moved away, one hobbling on his injured ankle, the others lifted Booth back to his feet and forced him brusquely into the water. Again and again they forced him under, and each time he re-emerged, out of breath but alive.

Brennan lost count of how many times he was pushed under but she felt so glad when they eventually left him on the floor, gasping for air and coughing up water. Between breaths he tried to speak, his words coming out in short bursts, "Let me... speak to her... please..."

In response to some unseen signal, he was dragged forward by the second pair of henchmen, who grabbed the back of his shirt collar tightly, forcing him to look directly at the camera. The leader spoke again, this time to Booth. "Go on, Seeley," he said mockingly, "Beg that pretty little partner of yours to save your life. Or she'll be picking another number in an hour."

She felt her heart break as Booth nodded obediently and began to speak, still struggling for breath, "Temperance, please... please do this for me... I need you-" he coughed and she saw the grip on his collar tighten. "I need you," he began again, "To find something and arrest these bastards for me-"

She saw a fist collide with his face and then the screen cut to black. The voice spoke again from the phone, this time with a hint of annoyance, "You have a hour to release him or you will choose another number." The phone then went dead as well, leaving them staring at a blank screen in silence.

As their situation slowly sank in, Angela reached over and gripped Hodgins' hand for reassurance. Zach looked like he was about to throw up and every ounce of colour drained from Brennan's face.

She took a deep breath and turned to her friends, regretting her words even as she said them, "We need to keep going. We need to find some clue as to where he is. Pull that video off the computer and watch it until you see something that could give us a lead. The barrel, the room, the floor, whatever you can find, just do it quickly."

Not wanting to argue with her, they all nodded and headed off to Angela's office, wishing they didn't have to watch it all again.

* * *

Zach, Hodgins and Angela lined up in front of their boss, feeling like they were facing a firing squad. Normally Dr Brennan was open to scientific inquiry and debate, but today... They knew how much she cared about Booth and seeing her this rattled worried them all.

Angela gave Hodgins a sharp poke in the ribs, indicating he should speak first, and he stepped forward, clearing his throat, "First off, happy note. When we do find the place, there should at least be some DNA evidence there since Flunky A managed to spit straight on the floor for us. On the downside, we, um, analysed the video. We established that the location has a high ceiling and does appear to have no windows, from what we can see in the background anyway. We think there might be some sort of drain in the floor, but we can't positively identify that."

Feeling inadequate, he stepped back, nudging Zach to continue, "The implement that was used to strike Agent Booth's talocrural joint initially looked similar to a gun but was in fact a captive bolt stunner which is used to stun animals-"

Brennan interrupted, her face pale. "I know what that is, Zach," she said, adding quietly, "One was used to kill my mother."

It was Angela's turn to step forward. "I'm so sorry, sweetie," she said, gently, "I know how hard this must be for you."

She stiffened and answered bluntly, "Not as hard as it is for Booth." She turned her attention back to the case. "If a captive bolt stunner was used, then he could be on a farm somewhere. I know Vince McVicar had a pig farm where he used one; are there any in our search area?"

Angela nodded, "Yeah, but I'm not so sure we're looking for a farm." She passed her friend a still from the video, with the barrel highlighted. "I managed to get a name off the barrel - Carter's Salt."

"Why would you need salt on a farm?" Brennan asked, confused.

"You wouldn't," Hodgins answered simply.

She nodded, trying to think of some connection between the two _. This was always Booth's department,_ she thought ruefully, before catching herself, _Is. Is Booth's department._ Failing to find an answer, she turned back to Hodgins, "Find me a list of all the places 'Carter's Salt' delivers to in the search region. If we can't think of a connection, we'll just have to use exclusive logic and narrow down the possibilities until we find one."

Hodgins was half-way out of the door, dragging Angela with him, when he heard the phone ring again. They all instinctively turned to look at the clock.

The hour had gone already.


	15. Russian Bingo

The phone rang out again, shattering the silence that had descended in the office. Reluctantly, Brennan answered, knowing what was coming, "Yes?"

The infamous voice replied coldly, "Check your email." On doing so, she found another identical email from Angela's infiltrated account and clicked on the same link as before, filling the screen once more with the image of Booth's disguised abductor. Everyone's eyes were instinctively drawn to the background where Booth stood with his hands still fastened above his head.

"You have again failed to comply with our request. Pick a number." Brennan could see that Booth dropped his head in defeat when he heard the instruction and she hated to admit that she felt the same way.

"I will," she said quietly, "But please, just give me a minute."

On screen, the man nodded, "One minute, or I choose ten again."

Silencing her phone, she looked to her team, hoping for guidance.

Hodgins just shook his head, "This is sick. It's like some twisted game of Russian Roulette, but with numbers. It's Russian Bingo. No wonder no-one wanted to talk about what happens to the targets."

"I know that, Jack," she said in exasperation, "But we need to help Booth, we need to do something." She addressed everyone, "Which do I pick? The barrel of water gave us some clues before but I need something that will help us link the salt and the bolt stunner."

Zach piped up, "Logically, the knife would be a helpful choice. If we saw its make and magnitude, we may be able to trace its owner."

Hodgins nodded in agreement, "As much as I hate to say it, he's right. The knife is likely to give us something to work with."

Brennan did not look convinced but said, "I know. The knife may be useful but..."

"It'd hurt like hell," Angela finished, knowing what her other priority was.

"Booth hates knives," she said in acknowledgement, "I think he might even prefer the gun."

"Okay, so we pick something else," the artist said, optimistically. "What would help us narrow the location down?"

Brennan suddenly sat up as inspiration struck. "Electricity!" she cried triumphantly, "Whatever they use to shock him, we should be able to trace. If it's something there, then we can find the location, and even if it's just a strong Taser, there should be some record of purchase." Without waiting for the approval of the others, she clicked the phone back on and spoke confidently, "Number Three."

The leader chuckled, "The magic number."

Moving away from the screen, he zoomed the camera in so that the squints could just see Booth, standing in the middle of the picture, watching someone off-screen. They saw that he was in a worse state than before and realised with disgust that he had probably taken a further beating for his attempt at speaking to Brennan.

However, their attention was soon captured by a man dressed in black, who was approaching Booth with a metal rod that appeared to have wires sticking out of it. He held it against Booth's side and pressed a button.

Booth's screams filled the office as an electrical charge shot out of the stick and into his body, causing him to convulse with pain. As the man removed the stick, his legs gave out and the ropes on his wrists held him upright as he gasped in agony. The man reapplied the stick, this time to his back, and the screams began again.

Suddenly, the room went silent and they all looked to Brennan in confusion, seeing that she had turned off the speakerphone and was staring intently at the screen. She pointed to the stick and said questioningly, "Cattle prod?"

Zach peered closer. "I concur," he said firmly, "But those wires indicate some sort of modification, possibly to reduce the resistance and increase the size of the electrical shock produced."

"Okay, so we have a cattle prod, salt and a captive bolt stunner," his boss summarised. "Could still be a farm, except for that salt."

"Wait!" Hodgins exclaimed, pointing to the top of the picture. They followed his finger and saw that the camera had shifted, exposing a line of hooks hanging from the ceiling, all joined by a tightened rope.

The youngest doctor frowned in confusion, "What is that meant to be?"

Hodgins smiled broadly, "They're hooks for animal carcasses. The bolt stunner and the cattle prods would be used on the animals before slaughter and then the salt would be used to cure the ham from the pigs. It's a slaughterhouse. Booth is in a slaughterhouse."

Brennan and Zach turned to face Hodgins, equally impressed. "Good work Hodgins," she said with a warm smile. "Angela, do you know if there are any slaughterhouses in the search area, either in use or abandoned?"

When she got no reply from Angela, she turned to face her and realised that she was still staring at the screen, tears down her cheeks. She glanced over at the screen and, seeing that the man had gone, prompted her friend gently, "Ang, he's stopped, it's over. We need you to-"

Ignoring her, Angela reached over and wordlessly flicked the volume up on the speakerphone, not taking her eyes off the screen. Brennan's blood ran cold as she heard Booth's quiet sobs echo in the darkened slaughterhouse and she looked more intently at the screen, now seeing the involuntary tears that were running down his face.

She couldn't believe what she had just done and from the look on her friend's face, neither could she. "You forgot about him," Angela said softly, shaking her head. "All of you. You were so focused on the damn cattle prods that you didn't even notice what was happening to him."

Temperance opened her mouth to argue but was overwhelmed by guilt as she stared at the still-shaking Booth. _I'm sorry,_ she said to him silently, _I'm so so sorry._

Her thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the leader, "You have one hour to release Marco Dellato, or Seeley Booth will receive another punishment." With that, the screen and the phone went dead, cutting them off once again from their friend.

"I can't do this," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, "I can't let this happen to him anymore." She looked up at her friends, determination on her face, "We need to release Marco Dellato."


	16. Betrayal

Seeley Booth was scared.

He hated admitting it to himself, but he knew it was true. He'd been a Ranger, he was a Special Agent with the FBI and now he was tied up in some god-forsaken slaughterhouse, waiting for his partner to decide what exciting new torture he would have to endure next. But that wasn't what scared him the most.

It was the knowledge that there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it. It wasn't like an interrogation, where it would stop when he gave up the information. He had nothing they wanted. Brennan did. He closed his eyes, thinking of his partner. _Is she close to getting me out of here? Has she got enough evidence to arrest them?_ His mind jumped to a more pressing question, _Which number is she going to choose next?_

He knew that he shouldn't blame Brennan. _You were the one who told her not to give in,_ he told himself. _You told her to find some other way to get you out._ Still, he couldn't shake the doubts at the back of his mind, _Why hasn't she done something? I don't think I can last much longer._

He remembered the pain of the electric shocks that had been administered to him and how much he had wanted to make it stop. _If it had been up to me..._ He shook himself out of his thoughts. It wasn't up to him. His life was firmly in her hands and there was no way he could change that. He thought back to his one chance to speak to her and cursed himself for being so pig-headed. _Why did I tell her to keep going? Why didn't I tell her to help me?_

 _I'm being selfish,_ he decided. _This is the best thing for everyone. She promised me that she would find something to help me, and she will. All I have to do is last till then._ He jumped as he heard the door slam shut, and he swallowed hard. _God, let her find something soon._

His eyes fixed on the figure who had just walked in and his heart leapt when he saw that it was a woman. His hopes of rescue were abruptly dashed when the woman stepped forward into the light, revealing her tanned skin and her deep brown eyes. Booth felt his heartbeat quicken as he recognised the woman from a old picture in his case file - Gina Dellato.

As he stared at her, he realised that the picture did not do her justice. In it, she looked young and innocent, but in person, she radiated confidence and power. Booth could feel her eyes taking in every inch of him and realised how vulnerable he was; bound, gagged and alone.

She moved in close to him, her high heels making them the same height, and spoke softly, her voice low and commanding, "Are you afraid of me, Agent Booth?"

Booth couldn't tear his eyes away from hers. He shook his head slightly, but his shallow breaths indicated otherwise. "Good," she said, smiling broadly. _A crocodile smile,_ he thought nervously.

He tried to speak through his gag, wanting her to take it off, but she just laughed and placed a finger over his lips. Leaning in closer, she whispered firmly, "Sorry, Seeley. The gag stays on. In fact..." She stepped back and moved behind him, pulling her silk scarf off her neck. Booth tried to struggle but she swiftly fastened it over his eyes, plunging him into darkness.

"Isn't that better?" she asked. He shook his head slightly, fear coursing through him. She laughed again at his reaction, but this time the laugh was loud and cruel. "What are you afraid of, Seeley?" she inquired innocently, "Do you think I'm going to hurt you?"

Booth knew that she was going to hurt him and struggled desperately with the ropes on his wrists. Suddenly he stopped, hearing her delighted laugh and realising that this was the reaction she was after. Fighting against his instincts to resist, he stood still, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing his fear.

He heard her rummage in her bag and then stand behind him, waiting for some sort of reaction. When she received none, she said mockingly, "You think you're brave? Hanging on in there till your partner comes through for you? Bad news, she's already given up." Seeing him flinch, she pressed on, "She's been calling the FBI for the last half-hour trying to get Marco released. Your partner betrayed you." He shook his head firmly and Gina smiled again, "You keep thinking that."

Her words were followed by a loud swish. Booth barely had time to recognise the sound before the riding crop landed hard on his shoulders, sending a sharp pain through his body. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes behind the scarf, he fought the urge to cry out as she brought it down repeatedly across his back.

After what seemed like forever, the blows stopped and he heard her move round in front of him. He felt her stroke the whip against his cheek and noted with disgust that it was warm. "Come on, Seeley," she said, "It's just you and me. You don't need to do this."

Booth bit his lip. He desperately wanted to cry out in pain but he knew this was the only hold he had over anyone at the moment and he wasn't willing to give it up.

In response to his silence, she dropped the whip and stepped nearer, running her fingers along his bruised collarbone. She spoke again, sadistically, "Are you enjoying this, Seeley? I bet you spend all your time in control of the situation, giving orders, making arrests... How does it feel knowing I could do anything I want to you now?"

She ran her hand down his chest and Booth tensed up at her touch. He wanted to beg, plead, do anything to make her leave him alone, but he figured that was what she got off on, and he wasn't about to give it to her. She slowly began to undo the buttons on his shirt and he felt his skin crawl as her hands brushed against his chest.

Suddenly, he felt her body press up close against his as she kissed his neck. He shuddered as her lips moved down, tracing a line along his throat, and her hands continued to unbutton his shirt. Between kisses, she whispered cruelly, "I bet your partner wishes she was here to see this." He jerked away slightly at the thought of Temperance Brennan and Gina laughed darkly, "She'd love to see you like this, all tied up and helpless. I mean, that is why she's left you here for this long."

Booth shook his head defiantly. _No,_ he thought, _She's left me here so that she can get the evidence to arrest you and all your bastard family._

Gina laughed upon seeing his response, and trailed kisses along his jaw. "Come on, Seeley, why else would she leave you like this? She's going to give us what we want, she just liked seeing you suffer for a while. She probably gets off on it just as much as I do."

Unable to take it anymore, Booth shouted loudly through his gag, trying to pull away from her, "She's not like you, you sick bitch!" His words were muffled by the material, but Gina smiled with satisfaction at his anger and kissed him passionately on the lips, ignoring the tie fastened round his mouth. The kiss deepened and Booth cried out pleadingly as he felt her hands begin to loosen his belt.

The loud ringing of a phone rose above Booth's cries and he felt relief wash over him as she stepped back, her attention elsewhere. The phone was answered by a man, and Booth was surprised to discover that there had been another person in the room with them. He spoke briefly and Booth recognised the voice as that of Luca Dellato, although he could not make out what he was saying or who he was talking to. He heard the click of the phone being hung up and then footsteps as Luca approached his sister.

"Leave him and go back to the house," he said, with a business-like tone.

"But I was just getting started," Gina replied in frustration. "Can't I just- "

Luca cut her off sharply, "No. You will go back to the house and find yourself an alibi. Dr Brennan just got Marco released and now she needs to be given the final instructions for the trade. Make yourself scarce and don't you dare argue with me again."

Hearing this interaction, Booth realised that he had been wrong in arresting Marco Dellato. _It's been Luca all along,_ he thought in horror. _He's the one running this whole thing. He's the one the others can't manage without. If I'd arrested him at the start, I could've avoided all this._

He was brought back to reality when Gina pulled the scarf from round his eyes, fastening it neatly back on her neck. She looked up at him, smiling smugly. "What did I tell you?" she said, her voice filled with malice. "She was always going to do as we said, but not until you'd amused her for a while." Flashing him another crocodile smile, she turned and walked out, her words echoing in his mind.

 _She wouldn't,_ he told himself. _That's not Temperance, she's not like that._ He knew that rationally, but his head was still spinning from the news. _She released him?_ _She can't have done. It's a trick. They're lying to me._

As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, Booth knew it was true. _She promised me,_ he thought, feeling betrayed. _All this time I thought she was doing something to help me, but she was always going to just give in._ Tears stung his eyes, as he remembered what he'd gone through, thinking it would do some good. _It was all for nothing. They're going to get away with all of it - what they did to Maria Clarke and what they've done to me._

His head slumped on his chest in defeat and he heard Luca Dellato begin speaking in his deep, modified voice _. He's speaking to Bones,_ he thought bitterly. _She's going to hand over the evidence and they're going to let me go._ He knew he should be happy at the prospect of freedom, but he still felt sick at her betrayal, and Gina Dellato's words nagged him at the back of his mind.

 _How could she do this to me?_


	17. Compliance

"Well done, Dr Brennan."

Temperance felt guilt wash over her as she stared at the man on her computer screen. She hated that she had been forced to release Marco Dellato, but she couldn't face choosing another torture for Booth to endure. Now she was being congratulated by his kidnappers for her cowardice.

It hadn't been easy getting Dellato released at 4am. She had called the FBI holding cells and told them that she was dropping the assault charges and that there was no evidence to link him to the murder, but the very tired guards had told her that she wasn't FBI and had no business calling them. Frustrated, she had tried to call other agents to get them to make the call, but was hung up on by almost all of them.

Finally, she had got in touch with a younger agent, Sampson, who seemed to be particularly subservient to Booth. When she explained that Booth was the one who wanted his release, Sampson had gone straight down to the holding cells, berated the guards and secured Dellato's freedom, clearly wanting to impress the senior agent. She had thanked him for his help and hoped to herself that the young man didn't get in trouble for his actions.

Turning her attention back to the unknown man, she spoke with as much authority as she could muster, "I've done as you asked. Now let him go."

The man nodded calmly, "Of course, Dr Brennan. I am a man of my word. Come alone to Oak Hills Crematorium at 4.30am. Bring all the evidence connected to the Clarke case. That includes Maria Clarke's remains and anything else you gathered from Seeley Booth's apartment. You will find a brown box outside the Jeffersonian door which you will use to transport the evidence. Once we are satisfied, Seeley Booth will be released."

Brennan felt her heart sink. "I- That's illegal... I can't- "

"This is not a debate, Dr Brennan. This is your final warning. You will do as you are told or Seeley Booth will be killed. Do you understand me?"

Before she could reply, she heard a loud thud. She spun round, thinking that it was the door to her office, but she saw nothing except her colleagues standing behind her, looking equally surprised by the noise. Turning back to the screen, she realised that the noise had come from the slaughterhouse.

They saw a man storm angrily towards Booth, his face hurriedly covered by a mask. The leader was clearly as taken aback as they were when the intruder smacked Booth hard across the face, shouting "You son of a bitch!" He delivered another solid punch to his gut. "Not so big now, are you, you cocky bastard?"

The leader was on his feet in a flash and hurried over to intercept the man, but could not stop him from hitting Booth again, yelling "That's for your bitch of a partner!" The leader pulled him off roughly and dragged him off camera, his angry whispers masked by Booth's groans of pain.

Moments later, the leader returned to the camera, speaking directly to Brennan again through his microphone, "Call the cops, he dies. Bring your friends, he dies. Try anything with the evidence, he dies. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," she said quietly, still concerned about Booth in the background.

The phone went dead and the picture vanished from the screen. She turned to face her friends, resignation etched on her face.

"Honey, I'm sorry..." Angela began, stepping forward, but Temperance held up a hand to quieten her.

"Angela, don't. Not now," she said, needing to stay composed for Booth's sake. "I need you to get me that box from outside and put all your sketches in it. Hodgins, everything you were working on earlier needs to go in there and, Zach, please put all the bones from Examination Table Three in the box too."

Zach frowned, "But Dr Brennan, you can't-"

"Now, people!" she shouted, stress showing in her voice, "I'm supposed to be there in twenty minutes!"

Not wanting to argue further, they each hurried off in separate directions.

When they had left, Temperance reached under her desk and pulled out the guard hat and the list of demands, staring at them sadly. _I'm sorry, Booth,_ she thought silently. _I'm so sorry._

* * *

With the rain pounding down on her car, Brennan pulled into the car park of the funeral home at 4.28am and was surprised to find that she was the only one there. _It's the middle of the night,_ she reminded herself, _Of course there's no-one else here. Plus, the Dellatos aren't going to leave their cars out here for everyone to see._

With her heart pounding in her chest, she lifted the large brown box out of the passenger seat and ran towards the covered door, hood pulled over her head. Pushing it open with her hips, she entered the sombre reception room and immediately felt the barrel of a gun pressed against her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see it was a man, dressed in black like the others, and she felt him pull her hood down and guide her forward to the room containing the furnace, keeping the gun against her temple.

As she entered, she saw three other men waiting there, all unidentifiable in their dark clothes. She looked around quickly for Booth but couldn't see him anywhere and she hoped she wasn't too late.

"Put the box down," one of the men barked gruffly and she did, trying not to show her fear. "Put your hands on your head." She did and was carefully searched by the man who had led her in.

Obviously satisfied that she wasn't wearing a wire, the man in the center of the other two stepped forward and she quickly ascertained that he was the leader. "Well done, Dr Brennan. Very prompt."

She brought her hands back to her sides and attempted to conceal her nerves as she spoke, "That's everything I've got. Now let my partner go."

The man nodded and gestured to the box, "Open it please." Without the computer software, his voice was cold and low, and Brennan realised that this must be the remaining Dellato brother, the one that neither she nor Booth had managed to injure yet. Slowly she lifted the lid off the box and he stepped forward to view the contents. "Tell me what's inside."

She shook her head. "You already know what's inside. Now please just take it and let him go."

His eyes met hers and she saw a flash of anger in them. "I don't like to repeat myself, Dr Brennan, but I will remind you that Seeley Booth's life is still mine to take."

Her heart thudded at the mention of Booth's name and, not wishing to provoke him, she listed the contents quickly, "Maria Clarke's remains, sketches of the victim, all trace evidence found in the tunnels, the guard jacket and hat Booth was found in, the duct tape that was over his mouth, the tape and handcuffs used on me and blood samples and particulates from the stairs and from the apartment."

He nodded contentedly. "Very good, Dr Brennan. Now, put your cell phone in that box and throw it into the furnace." Her mouth dropped open in shock and he smirked harshly, "What did you think was going to happen here? Throw it in the furnace or I will have his throat slit."

Images of Booth's death flashed before her eyes and she hurried over to the cremator, wanting the whole ordeal to be over. She slipped her cell into the box and threw in hard into the blazing fire, watching as the box crinkled to ash and the bones turned to dust before her eyes.

She turned back to face the man, determination on her face, "Tell me where Booth is."

He spoke calmly, but with an air of satisfaction that sickened her, "Take the Beltway West until you come to River Road. Follow it up towards Potamac and turn off at Roper Lane. If you contact the police or your friends, you'll never find him."

Leaving her in stunned silence, Luca Dellato followed his men out of the back door, laughing softly to himself.

Temperance ran back out into the rain, thinking only of Booth. _He's going to be fine,_ she told herself repeatedly as she started the car. _I'll be there soon. He's going to be okay._

She swallowed hard. _He's got to be okay._


	18. Search and Rescue

Temperance Brennan turned right onto Roper Lane, the rain still pounding down on her windscreen.

The journey had been relatively quick since there was very few cars around at 4.30 in the morning, but she had still broken every speed limit possible in her eagerness to get to her partner. She remembered Hodgins saying that the other victim, "John", had been left by the roadside somewhere and she knew that Booth couldn't last long out in the heavy rain, especially with the injuries he'd sustained.

She flicked her headlights onto full as she wound her way slowly down the narrow lane, her eyes scanning the sides of the road carefully. She was surprised when the road ended abruptly at a farmer's gate and she jumped out of the car, peering over the gate into the darkness but not finding her partner.

She heard the kidnapper's words echo in her ears, _"If you contact the police or your friends, you'll never find him,"_ and panic rose in her stomach. _I did what they said,_ she thought helplessly. _Where is he?_

Trying not to imagine the worst, she ran back to her car, feeling the rain squelch inside her boots and being thankful for her warm coat. Starting the engine again, she began to turn the car round, convinced she must have missed him. As she turned, the headlamps fell fully on the side of the road and suddenly she caught a glimpse of white in the ditch that ran alongside the lane.

Not stopping to turn the car off, she threw the door open again and ran over to the shallow ditch, her heart hammering in her chest. She saw Booth lying there, motionless, and without a moment's hesitation she slid down the muddy embankment, landing in the dirty pool of water that was gathering there.

She crouched by her partner, seeing that he was bound, gagged and blindfolded, but alive. She placed her hand gently on the side of his face and saw that he flinched at her touch and tried to move away, shaking his head. Surprised by his reaction, she quickly untied his blindfold and tugged the gag out of his mouth, trying to reassure him, "Booth? Booth, it's me. Booth!"

As soon as his gag was removed, Booth struggled weakly, unaware of what was happening, "Please... No, no..."

Temperance felt a sharp stab of pain at seeing him so frightened but she carefully cupped his face in her hands, trying to calm him, her voice soothing, "Booth, it's okay. It's over. It's me, it's Temperance." She smiled at him through the rain as his eyes met hers and she saw realisation dawn on him.

"Bones?" he asked softly, relief crossing his face.

"Don't call me Bones," she said, jokingly, and she too felt relief wash over her as she saw him smile slightly for the first time. Their gaze held for a moment before she noticed that he was shivering from the cold. Chastising herself for not being more alert, she dropped her hands from his face and moved down to untie his ankles, speaking in a more serious tone, "You need to get somewhere warm. I don't know how long you've been out here, but with this rain and your injuries, you're at serious risk of hypothermia."

Booth shook his head. "I'm okay," he said in as strong a voice as he could manage, but the chattering of his teeth indicated otherwise. She quickly unfastened the ropes around his legs and winced on his behalf when she saw his swollen ankle.

"Can you turn round for me?" She spoke gently into his ear and placed her hand on his shoulder, trying to avoid the bloody welts that she could make out through his soaked shirt. Nodding slightly, he twisted himself round so that the light from the car fell on his wrists and, to her dismay, Brennan saw that his hands were pale and shaking.

Working faster, she undid the knots, feeling her own fingers turning numb with the cold. When his arms were free, she moved back round in front of him, and spoke urgently, making sure his attention was firmly on her, "We need to get you into the car, okay? That's the warmest place for you to be right now." She saw his eyes glaze over slightly and she shook him hard by the shoulders, "Booth?"

Satisfied with his nod, she helped him shakily to his feet and together they limped up the muddy slope, Booth's breathing becoming quicker with each step. Only when they reached the sports car did Temperance realise how small and cramped it was. She hesitated briefly, but when she saw Booth begin to shiver more violently she opened the door and folded the seats down, helping him to slide carefully into the back seat and out of the rain.

Shutting the car door to keep the heat in, she ran to the small trunk where she kept a shovel and a blanket for emergencies. Tucking the blanket under her jacket, she closed the trunk and got back into the car, worried by the signs of hypothermia that her partner was now displaying.

In the bright light of the car, she realised just how bad his condition was. His shirt and pants were soaked through, revealing the many bruises and injuries that he had received whilst in captivity. His lips and fingers had taken on a bluish tinge and his breathing was shallow, indicating that hypothermia was already setting in. He seemed alert but Brennan knew that it might not last.

"Take your shirt and pants off," she said bluntly and Booth did a double-take.

"Hey, I know you missed me but come on," he said, giving a tired version of his mischievious grin.

"Booth, this isn't the time for jokes," she said sternly and his smile vanished as he realised how concerned she was. "You're already in the first stages of hypothermia. You need to get warm and those clothes aren't helping."

He nodded slightly and began to slide his shirt off over his shoulders, hands shaking and fingers numb. Seeing that he was struggling, Temperance moved closer and helped ease his arms out of the shirt sleeves, wondering whether the goosebumps on his skin were entirely down to the cold. Trying to avoid eye-contact, she quickly undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants before tugging them gently off his legs.

Booth felt her warm hands move down his freezing legs and tensed up, unsure whether from the cold or her touch. Clumsily, he tried to pull his muddy socks off but felt her hands slip underneath his and do it for him as the soles of his feet tingled as her fingers brushed against them lightly.

Cheeks flushed at the awkward intimacy of the situation, Brennan quickly shook the blanket open and placed it over her nearly-naked partner, effectively creating a barrier between the two of them.

Grateful for the warmth and coverage, Booth huddled under the blanket, feeling its softness against his bruised body. He looked back over towards Brennan, about to thank her for the blanket, but his mouth dropped open when he saw that she had removed her thick coat and her pale blue shirt, leaving her in just a thin vest-top. "Wh- what are you doing?" he stammered in shock.

Temperance blushed again as she felt his eyes fall on her, but she reminded herself that she was doing what was necessary. She shuffled close to him again and placed the warm blue shirt around his neck and the back of his head like a scarf. "You lose a lot of heat through your head so it needs to stay insulated," she said, retreating back behind science. "A scarf or hat would be most effective, but some sort of insulation is essential, and seeing as how that's the largest dry article of clothing we have, it'll have to do."

He nodded, thankfully, trying to alleviate some of the anxiety she clearly felt undressing in front of him. "Thank you, Bones," he said honestly as the warmth of her shirt soothed his stiff neck.

She moved back towards the other side of the car, tucking her slim legs underneath her body and wrapping herself in her coat. _I'll drive back soon,_ she thought to herself, _Just as soon as my legs stop shaking._ She glanced over at Booth, who had curled up as much as possible in the cramped back seat. _He's alive,_ she reminded herself, thinking of the injuries she had seen as she removed his clothes. _At least, he's alive._

Booth closed his eyes. As the numbness wore off with the heat of the blanket, the pain slowly returned to his battered body. He felt his broken ankle throb and the blanket rubbed against the lacerations on his back. _At least I'm alive,_ he reminded himself, looking over to his partner. _But at what cost?_

A tense silence filled the car as both of them recalled the painful events of the last few hours.

Suddenly Booth's voice cut through the stillness, with a question he'd been needing the answer to ever since Gina Dellato had visited him,

"Why did you do it?"


	19. Explanations

The first silence had been broken but another pregnant pause followed Booth's question as Brennan looked at her partner. He still appeared physically weak, wrapped tightly in her dark blanket, but she saw intensity burning in his eyes as he looked straight at her.

"Do what?" she asked, knowing exactly what he meant.

Booth looked at her coldly. "Don't play dumb with me, Temperance, you know you're no good at it. Why did you release Dellato? Why did you lie to me?"

"Lie to you?" she asked, taken aback by his sudden accusation. "Booth, I was trying to save you!"

"You promised me," he continued, restrained anger in his voice. "That night, you promised that you wouldn't give up. You swore you would find something- "

"There was nothing to find!" she shouted, interrupting him, "I tried, Booth. We all did, but we couldn't get enough to arrest them. Giving them what they wanted was the only way we could get you back."

Booth shook his head. "Every case we've ever worked, you've been able to find something. You expect me to believe that this time you found nothing?"

Brennan opened her mouth to reply but felt her voice catch in her throat. _He's right,_ she thought sadly. _We found out where he was, but we couldn't get to him. We couldn't risk it._

Booth watched her eyes drop down in shame and asked, betrayal evident in his voice, "Why did you do it, Temperance? Why did you give up?"

"I didn't have a choice!" she said, loudly, unable to cope with his suspicion.

"Yes, you did! You could've kept going, you could've found something!"

"There was nothing on that body, Booth," she shouted, tears welling in her eyes. "Even before you got taken, I knew there was nothing to find."

Booth's mouth dropped open as she inadvertently confirmed his worst fear. His eyes filled with hurt and he spoke softly, afraid of her answer, "Then why did you wait?" She looked down and he asked again, more firmly, "If you were never going to do what you promised me, then why did you leave me there? Why not just hand it over at the start?"

"Booth..."

"Tell me the truth, Temperance! Why did you wait?" He felt tears sting his own eyes as he yelled, "Why the hell did you let them do that to me?"

"Because I had to!"

She paused, breathing hard, and was met with expectant silence. She spoke quietly, tears running down her cheeks, "What they did to you... It helped us. We needed to know where you were being held and choosing those numbers was the only way we could figure it out."

"But you didn't figure it out," he stated coldly. "It was all for nothing."

"No!" she shouted again, before catching herself and lowering her voice, "No, we did work it out. The barrel, the hooks, the bolt stunner... We knew it was a slaughterhouse. We even found out which one, but..."

"But what?"

She lowered her eyes, shaking her head, "We couldn't risk it. They've got contacts everywhere. If we'd informed the FBI, they'd have killed you before the Rescue Team got anywhere near. Please, believe me, if there'd been any other way... " Her voice cracked with sobs as she looked up at him, eyes swollen with tears, "I couldn't lose you, Booth, I couldn't..."

Booth felt his heart break as she cried quietly, letting out all the emotions that she'd been keeping bottled up inside her. Ignoring the pain in his body, he moved over to her, sliding his arm around her and letting her cry into his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't know..." He brought the blanket over her and felt her instinctively move closer to him. "I'm so, so sorry, Temperance."

Curled up next to her partner, Brennan let all the stress and fear that she had felt over the last few days pour out of her. She could feel his body pressed up against hers and she was glad to find that his body temperature seemed to have returned to normal. _He's going to be okay,_ she thought, gladly. _He's alive, we're all safe, the Dellatos have-_

She suddenly jumped away from Booth as a thought struck her. "Angela... I need to call... We need to go..." she mumbled, her mind moving faster than her mouth, and she clambered back over into the front seat, putting the car in drive.

Booth frowned in confusion, wondering what had got her so spooked. Putting his hand on her shoulder, he asked "Bones? What's the matter? Did something happen to Angela?"

She shook her head and started to drive, explaining as she went, "I said I'd call her as soon as I got you back. She must be worried sick..."

"I'm sure she can wait a few more minutes," he said, still confused by her sudden panic.

"No, it's not just that," Temperance said quickly, a hint of frustration in her voice, "As soon as I found you, Angela was supposed to call the FBI and say that there was something illegal happening at the slaughterhouse. I need them to get there before the Dellatos can destroy all the evidence."

Booth raised his eyebrows in surprise. "But, I thought..."

"That we were going to let them get away with it? Booth, I know I couldn't keep all of the promise I made to you, but I can at least try to keep that part." She glanced back at him with a smile. "We've got the evidence of what happened to you saved on the computer, we just need to prove that the Dellatos were the ones doing it. There should be DNA evidence from at least one of their thugs in that place, plus the camera was running when Marco Dellato came in and hit you."

"Wasn't his face covered?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Yes, but he was heard shouting the evens-"

"Odds. People shout the odds, not the evens," he said with a quick smirk.

She pressed on regardless. "Either way, his voice wasn't modified so we can do a comparison with his initial interrogation and prove it was him. And we have Sal Dellato's DNA at your apartment from where you broke his nose." She smiled slightly at the memory.

Booth was lost again. "Did they not make you hand over that evidence?"

She glanced back at him with a guilty smile. "Well, yes, but they didn't exactly have the necessary skills to verify the evidence I'd brought."

"You switched it," he said with a smile of realisation.

"Not all of it. We had to hand over the ransom note, the duct-tape I was tied up with, that guard uniform they left you in and Angela's sketches."

"And the rest?" he asked, proud of her bravery in presenting forged evidence.

"The blood samples were mine, any particulates were from the garden at the Jeffersonian, the handcuffs were a pair that Angela keeps in her office." She continued, smiling at his look of surprise, "Hodgins forged the writing on the duct tape that was placed over your mouth. Luckily the pen they used to write with was a very common one. When we arrest them we can compare hand-writing samples and-"

"What about the remains?" Booth cut in, wondering how she could have faked them.

"Zach's been creating a model skeleton for the Jeffersonian to show the effects of brittle bone disease. He was going to present it at the Living Science exhibition next month," she said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

He nodded in recollection, "Oh, so that's what the kid's been poring over every time I've come by." Realisation dawned. "Oh."

"It really was an excellent replica," she said, slightly regretful, "But I couldn't let them destroy Maria Clarke's remains as well as her life. She deserves a proper funeral."

"And she'll get one now," he said with a nod. "Listen, thanks, Bones. You know, for the blanket, and the evidence, and, uh, you know- "

"You're welcome," she said simply, knowing what he was trying to say. "Now, you need to rest. I'll take you to the hospital and call Angela from there."

Booth opened his mouth to argue, but felt sleep begin to wash over him as the adrenaline from the rescue started to wear off. He closed his eyes, pulling the blanket tightly round him, and quickly drifted off to sleep, offering up a silent prayer of thanks that he had Temperance Brennan as a partner.

Brennan looked in the rearview mirror and smiled when she saw the sleeping agent in her back seat. After a night spent watching him fight for his life, she was glad to see him breathing softly with a peaceful smile on his face.


	20. Falling into Place

Booth slowly limped down the corridor containing the FBI interrogation rooms, supporting himself on the grey, hospital-issued crutches. They'd wanted him to stay there and rest, but there was no way he was going to miss this.

A sense of satisfaction filled him as he passed each room and saw the members of the Dellato family being shown the evidence which would send them to jail for a long time. He watched as Sal Dellato put his head in his hands when an agent held out the DNA results for his blood in Booth's apartment. In the next room, Marco Dellato was being pinned to the table after trying to assault another agent, while a video of him, striding into the warehouse and attacking Booth, played on the monitor.

As he moved to the next doorway, he was startled as the door opened and Gina Dellato was led out. He felt an irrational jolt of fear pass through him as they nearly collided and she smiled darkly upon seeing him. "Why, Seeley, I barely recognised you," she said, her tone low and intimate. Holding up her cuffed wrists, she continued, mockingly, "Maybe if these were on _you_..."

Booth stepped back abruptly and she laughed softly to herself. Trying to forget that his heart was beating faster in fear, he spoke coolly, "Sorry, Gina, looks like you'll be the only one wearing these for a while." He smirked at her as she was led away, "Unless you count your brothers."

When she was out of his sight, he turned round to check on Luca Dellato but was surprised to find Brennan standing right behind him.

"Hey, Bones," he said, his surprise evident in his voice. "What're you doing here?"

"I came round to drop off some lab results." She looked down the corridor to where Gina had been standing and asked, "Was that Gina Dellato?"

Booth nodded, unsure of why she was asking. Brennan opened her file and held up an evidence bag containing the tie that the Dellatos had used as a gag. "This was about to be burned when we got to the slaughterhouse."

"Man, that used to be one of my favourites," he said with a half-hearted smile, trying to erase the tension that Gina had created.

Brennan didn't smile as she read from her sheet, "We found two sets of saliva on this. One was yours and one belonged to Gina Dellato. This proves that she _was_ there, but..." She took a deep breath and looked straight at Booth. "I don't know _why_ she was there."

He swallowed hard, not wanting to remind himself of what Gina had done or why she had been there. Meeting his partner's inquiring gaze, he spoke softly, "Do you trust me?" She nodded without a second's hesitation. "Then trust me when I say that you don't want to know."

She opened her mouth in protest at his avoidance but stopped herself when she saw the shame in his eyes. For once, she silenced her curiosity and nodded reluctantly, aware of how much it would hurt him to tell her. Trying to make him feel at ease, she said, jokingly, "Nice crutches." A genuine smile crossed his face and she was pleased she had succeeded.

"Hey, don't knock the crutches," he said, with mock insult. "These provide hours of endless fun for a four-year-old - guns, swords, stilts, you name it."

"Parker came by?" she asked.

He nodded, a twinkle in his eye at the thought of his son, "Yep, first thing this morning. He figured that if he broke his ankle, he could have a pair, so Rebecca spent the whole time trying to stop him jumping off the bed or kicking the wall."

Brennan smiled at the image, "He wants to be like his Dad."

Booth laughed and shook his head, "No, he just wants something new to play with. Four-year-olds are easily distracted by crutches."

Temperance suddenly remembered what she had meant to tell him before she had started talking about crutches and her smile faded. "Booth, I mean to tell you, we did all we could with the computer, but we couldn't get the voice of the man who was talking through the modifier."

His smile faded also as he realised the implications of her words. "So we've got nothing on Luca?"

"Not a damn thing."

They both jumped at the low voice of Luca Dellato who had emerged from the interrogation room behind Brennan, clearly a free man.

Booth shook his head, "You were there. I heard you."

Dellato gave a thin smile, "Agent Booth, with those injuries, I very much doubt your memory can be relied upon."

Brennan stepped forward in defense of her partner. "We've got the rest of your family, and most of your thugs. We _will_ find something on you."

"Impossible, Dr Brennan," he said, with emotion. "I was never there. I had no involvement with the regrettable actions of my brothers and sister. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to." Without another word, he walked calmly past them, ignoring Booth's angry stare.

"He's got away with it," he said, hitting his crutch against the wall in frustration when Dellato had left. "He planned the whole damn thing and now he's got away with it."

She placed a hand gently on his shoulder and gave him a small smile, "Hey, his whole family's gone to jail and the police will be watching his every move. He's not exactly got away Dutch-free, has he?"

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief but felt some off his anger ebb away at her words as he instinctively corrected, "Scot-free, but thank you."

They were both suddenly aware that the whole corridor had become quiet, leaving the two of them out there alone, leaning in close to each other.

Brennan looked up at her partner, barely aware that her hand still rested lightly on his shoulder. Summoning up the courage, she asked, quietly, "Booth, last night, before they took you away..." She met his eyes, hoping that he'd put her out of her misery. He made no move to do so. "You kissed me," she finished quickly, dropping her eyes to the floor in embarrassment.

His eyes also avoided hers and his fingers played nervously with the handles of his crutches. "Oh," he said awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed. "Look, Bones, uh, I'm sorry, I, uh, I never meant..." he stammered, trying to gauge her reaction.

It was not what he expected. She looked up, nodding assertively, "Well, that's good. Um, I should go now, get back to the Jeffersonian." She turned and began to walk away, her shoulders sagging slightly, but Booth stuck out a crutch to stop her, hobbling closer.

"Bones, wait!" She stopped and he saw a hint of disappointment cross her face. "That wasn't what I meant." She frowned in confusion and he tried to correct himself, "No, I mean I didn't mean to say that, not that I didn't mean to kiss you, because I did and..." He took a deep breath. "Last night, I did mean to kiss you."

"Why?" she asked openly, meeting his eyes.

Booth shifted uncomfortably, not completely sure of the reason himself. "Bones, I thought I was going to die," he began but stopped when he saw the hurt in her eyes.

"I understand," she said coldly, pulling away from him and walking briskly down the hallway.

"No, you don't!" Booth shouted after her, but she didn't look back. He ran down the corridor after her as quickly as he could, then dropped the crutches as he grabbed her arms, spinning her round to face him.

"Let go of me, Booth," she said, tears in her eyes. "I've heard enough."

"Temperance, for once in your life would you listen to me!" he shouted and instantly regretted it when he saw that she was crying. "I thought I was going to die last night," he said, his voice soft yet sincere, "And I didn't want to," He took a deep breath, "Without letting you know how I felt."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "But I thought- "

"What? That I kissed you because it seemed fun at the time? You know me better than that," he said with a smile.

"Why didn't you say this before? I've been thinking..." She stopped, not wanting to share exactly what she'd thought of him.

He smiled again. "I didn't know if you remembered, or if you wanted to remember, or if you felt the same way, or..." He paused. "You do feel the same way, right?"

Her kiss was the only answer he needed.


End file.
